The Fart and the Egg

The Fart and the egg. Another quixotic reference to nonsensical data in and around the world. Why fart? Maybe so that I can capture your attention. So that I can claim that I have your concentration solely on my blog, where I will rant and rave about some Tis Mar khan whose new movie is a journey of self-discovery as he will proudly say his Name is Khan and hundreds of hormonally imbalanced devotchka will swoon over the dimpled wonder, over the stammering demi-god whose twitter is now a hit as some of my friends say, who think how can they win his attention, write crap, and win it, it was never so simple but thanks to technology things are simple if not easier and mind you there is a difference between simple and easy for one man's easy might not be simple for another man as our barechested hercules, Sallu bhai comes up with his magnum opus Veer, and may Nikolai Gogol rest in peace for the apparent adaptation of Taras Bulba is going to be gargantuan in every angle, which the russian could never have imagined or could have imagined and if his imagination was so colourful in those days of black and white, maybe he would not have come out of the overcoat and then yes there is the pullout of Google from China, such a calamity, such a wonderful catastrophe for both giants, and then there is Mr. Barack Obama who is still wondering why and who gave him the noble candy, he is still sucking on it, and wondering who will win it next so that he could pass the buck as troops increase in those god forlorn places where people's life are nothing but a maze of brutal existence a grim display of horror and you can still hear the tin drum ringing somewhere in your year and of the lost loves of the fight in Bengal, the Maoist agenda, of the singer that died, of the actress who cried, of the 86 year old Indian Hefner who lost his guvnerial post due to his show of virility at his age when the leadership had to think that it was best way to kick him out instead of waiting since he had a long way to go, of a tweet happy minister who always makes the wrong noises, of his stephanian humour which the cattle class won't understand, of his polished english which again won't go down well, of his use of technology and his frequent faux pas, the common people have much more, much and much more to worry about, of the dork and the stork in the frequent humping and thumping, of a Gandhi who suddenly wants to be a gladiator just like Russell Crowe did in his award winning role, of another Gandhi whose ideals we have lionized and then dwarfed as each and everyday we screw the principles of that man, and another man, who smirks daily even after molesting a kid, and refers it to Nehruvianism, and I don't understand the context of his sudden spurt in activities of a man whose blatant disregard for the law is so chauvinistic. I don't understand when a man has to get nine of his finger amputated because of police brutality, a place where we still are not equal, where there is reservation and regionalism, where there is more sorrow than happiness yet we keep on smiling, where there is a sudden sense of nostalgia, where there is wariness regarding our neighbours, aman ki asha won't work, as it has never, for the people have changed and times have gone crazy, the globalized world have come together in a binding bond of profit, and this same global brothers can't save the planet as they crib like school children, and there is lot more, more than what we common man can understand, of what we common man deserve to think, of rising inflation, of dwindling career, there is no empathy or sympathy, there is just a common hollowness, there is just a cryptic silence, there is just the eternal silence, just the same atmosphere that happens after you fart, the silence and the smell, and the meandering images which haunt your brain instead of your heart, the dangerous times and the soft times and you crib again like me when you learn that Backstreet Boys are coming to Rock India 2010, when you learn your girlfriend is going to dump you or you have not received that deserved call from the institute you have applied. India had three phases- Dil Chahta Hain phase, the Rang De Basanti and now the three idiots phase. It will go on for sometime till another phase comes up, another diluted effort to mend the botched up sex-change operation and frequent sporadic eruption of angst and anger, nothing happens, nothing will ever happen , as Waiting for Godot says in a more bleak and stark way, the fart shall happen and the chatur shall appreciate his farting capability and he will win the race for the age belongs to Chatur and not Rancho for the dreams of reel can never, can never ever swipe down the nightmares of reality. The fart and the egg are synonymous to us and our apathy. It is to stay. And being Chatur will just help you. Yes, it will.