Tuesday, March 27, 2012

Geelani's Karakuli

Ladies and gentlemen, the season of screwballs is officially here. All retards are competing. Yes it includes TV anchors and college drop-outs with nothing but nuisance value and gawky paunches on them. And they are outdoing each other to decide on the biggest loony of them all. The winner of round one is a sick little joker, who does not frankly dignify a mention, and whose only claim to fame is lunging awkwardly at elderly people.

Since they think that everyone outside their groupings – with abbreviated names such as BSKS and all – is a traitor, this league of extraordinary idiots is forever busy deciding upon the next gate-crash for their moment of glory. Over an endless diet of cheap Samosas, they have pledged to salvage Kashmir for India. Once the act is performed, some doucebag is send rushing to Bittu’s net café to upload the day’s exploits. Democracy’s trolls.

Geelani Sahib is an old man. He sure does make extraneous noises from time to time. Ofcourse we won’t throw our expensive phones into river Jhelum, neither shall we asunder our classrooms into male and female units. However that takes nothing away from our respect for him, for while he may perhaps not be the prophet who delivers us onto the promised realm of Azadi, only he has the gall to tell the emperor that he has no clothes. Upfront.

It does not take much to attack an individual. After all a weak old man, aged 83, surviving on one kidney, with a history of cardiac ailment, a non-functioning liver and bronchitis, stands little chance in front of a dozen thugs screaming like chimps on fire. With no idea or context of the history or narrative of Kashmir, leave alone its resistance struggle, they charge at Geelani, making a hash of his lamp-cap, besides kicking him.

A Karakuli signifies honor in our culture. It is not a religious symbol like a Sikh’s turban. It means a certain eminence that is part of our daily lives. Knocking it off an elderly person and stepping on it is no pride. I just don’t see how some street urchins from the bylanes of Delhi can attempt to rescue India’s policy on Kashmir through this hatred. The juice of their deeds is communal.

It also begs a larger question. Is this just a gang of louts behaving in isolation or is it part of some larger effort at hurling indignity where appeasement does not work? No matter how many tourists mistake horses for mules and not withstanding attempts of black-out by the free media in the world's largest democracy, aspirations cannot be abolished.

The Karakuli bows to none.

© Sameer