Indians Chining ***

India- the next superpower. Booming economy. Skyrocketing incomes and dizzying real estate prices. Everyone is singing praises of India. And Indians. Suddenly it feels good to be Indian. We can walk around with our heads up. We can turn up our collars. But wait.

All is not well. The Delhi Commonwealth games , supposed to showcase the New India – is promising to be a collosal disaster. Corruption. Incompetence. Structures collapsing in the full glare of world media. Unsafe venues. Faeces in the residences. Muddy doggy footprints on the beds. You name it.

Media is having a field day. One picture is of a huge billboard of the Games Mascot, dwarfing a tiny barefoot urchin, dressed in rags, and crouching on a dusty pavement. A handcart loaded with games signages and other articles pushed by a half dozen sweating emaciated laborers, against the backdrop of a spanking new stadium. A collapsed footbridge, and hundreds of police, officials and other on-lookers. All standing around, many pointing in different directions. No one seems to be doing anything. And appalling conditions in the facilities – as witnessed by contingent members from different countries. And the most damning quote: “The Indians may have unwittingly brought about the demise of the Commonwealth Games. For good.”

And closer to home, the Indians are not getting any good press either. Two Indian lawyers (popular perception being : this is arguably the worst combination of race and profession) are suspected of having carried out cold blooded murders of several people. And one of the victims is believed to be a millionaire from India. The story henceforth loses all pretense of reality and is unfolding like a Tamil mega-serial. There is the wife, who turns out to be not the wife. The real wife suddenly appears. Everyone is talking about he dead man’s money and what they are entitled to. Now, the story heats up. An alleged million ringgit ransom demand by two police officers from Bukit Aman. And of course: the officers were Indian.

And another story on todays's front pages: an Indian man and his wife abused an Indon maid, triggering riots in Indonesia against Malaysia.

And deeper in today's paper, news from a Jail in South America. The inmates are having some dance program, and the inmate featured prominently is: a Malaysian Indian.

Indians everywhere are really chining.

News Story ***

“61 year old M. Bulwari fell into the sea after opening the exit door on a Chennai bound train, mistaking it to be the door to the toilet. Her husband P.Meharchand later went to sea in a fishing boat in search on his missing wife who was later found sitting on a huge rock at sea.”

Can you picture this story actually happening ?

Home ***

Durappa lay at an awkward angle, mouth wide open. He slept blissfully, snoring sporadically, oblivious to the swarm of mosquitoes hovering all around him. The noise was earsplitting, even at that late hour. Air horns blared, and trucks revved loudly. The drivers and assistants yelled to make themselves heard over the din. But Durappa slept through it all, lying on the hard seat of his truck. He was exhausted after the long drive from Chandigarh to Bhopal. In the morning he would continue, driving his truck to Hyderabad.

***
Durappa had mixed feelings about his new life. The money was good. The work was easy. He was a gardener in the big hospital. Everyone back home in his village was envious. “Durappa has got a job in Malaysia”. But he missed home. He missed the familiar long drives, along the hot and dusty highways. He missed the simple but delicious meals at the dhabas. He missed his wife and children. And most of all, he missed the noise and bustle. Durappa was unable to sleep in his new quarters. It was too quiet.

He walked along the car park driveway slowly, carrying the shears. He was tired and sleep deprived.

***
Ranjan was fuming. His boss was so unreasonable. But Ranjan knew he had to keep his cool. Of late, his blood pressure had been erratic. He took deep breaths. He tried to think of the upcoming weekend.

As he turned the bend, he had to slow down. The man was walking along the middle of the driveway. Ranjan’s anger rose. He wanted to blast the horn. But he calmed himself down. Patience. Patience. Ranjan slowed to a crawl. The car rolled quietly behind the man. But the man was lost in thought, oblivious to his surroundings. Ranjan was reaching the end of his tether. Just as he was about to tap the horn, the man spotted the car. It startled him. He jumped to the side, instinctively.

***
Durappa let loose a string of choice curses. “Are you blind? Can’t you see a man walking? Why couldn’t you sound your horn? Sneaking up like that! You almost gave me a heart attack.” He brandished the shears.

Ranjan stood transfixed for a minute. This imbecile had been walking in the middle of the driveway blocking his path, and now he was screaming at him. Ranjan jumped forward, trying to grab Durappa. Durappa fended him off with the shears. The heavy metal shears hit the bonnet of the car, scraping the paint. Ranjan was infuriated. He grabbed Durappa and shook him. It was too much for Durappa. He went berserk. He landed repeated blows on Ranjan with the shears. Blood spurted everywhere. Ranjan grabbed the shears and stabbed Durappa.

Soon they both lay lifeless, in a pool of blood. For a moment, it was quiet. Then, suddenly all hell broke loose. People screaming. Alarms sounding. Sirens wailing. A cacophony of sounds. Durappa would have felt at home. If he had been alive.

What will you do ? ***

What will your reaction be if you encounter this on reaching home after a hard days' work?