As Diwali approaches, and we go frantic cleaning and sprucing up our houses, what would you think of a little detour, a shot at sweeping away a few of these societal offenses …
Honking on roads as if arses were catching fire, changing lanes as if worms were swimming up the innards higher and higher, and the ever so popular, “Abe ch***ye, jaanta ni main kaun hun ?” crossroad choir.
The mad bull charge for the coveted throne – the elusive Metro seat in the combat zone. Praan jaye, par seat na jaye.
Bargaining with street vendors in a Zara outfit – “ Bees rupiye to bohat zyaada bol rahe ho bhaiyya. Theek lagao. Aur dhaniya free chhaiye mujhe.”
The “Ai hello…!” calls to beckon people for help (Well Ai hello to you too, shitface!).
The ‘Aak thuus’ of the spits and the paans of the Thuuko Men and the unabashed display of the piss streams of the Susu Men.
Telling kids it’s okay… it’s okay to litter worldwide, it’s okay to potty roadside (and let the passersby watch the great divide), it’s okay to bully and behind Dad hide, and it’s okay to throw a tantrum for a toy Mom denied.
The cacophonic phone chatters about the really pressing case of ghar-ke-bagal-waali Sandhyaji in a quiet movie hall.
The roadside talents of men erupting into a mesmerizing rendition of ‘Chalti hai kya nauh se baara’, the moment a girl walks by.
Men in boxers and Women in nighties. Outside. In full public view.
Calling big women “ Hai kitni moti ho gayi hai tu!”, calling single women “ Hai bechaari!”and calling all women in general, “Hi Aunty!” (which, I petition, should be a punishable offence).