Bangalore Burning

So they hanged Saddam and some politician tried to play the Muslim vote-bank in Bangalore and one child got killed. Not that it means anything much to anybody. Getting het up and a bleeding heart is not going to get any results. I don’t know who you can walk up to and say looking shocked, wide eyed and justifiably terror and grief stricken – a child was killed! It’s become so so fucking common. So fucking common that even being bitter about it is no longer feels cool. You want to point at something to blame. Some bit of rationalization that will punish something or someone for the travesty of allowing this to happen: good candidates are of course, the motherfucker politician who provided the incendiaries, the police who as usual ran amok like a bull in a china shop and shhh lets not forget in the blame game to blame the Muslims themselves. Hmmm ok, since tacking a blame label is the name of the game, we can also drag in the Hindus. And maybe a few Japanese as well.

Eh? You ask. Japanese?

Yup. That’s right. The Japanese.

And how, pray, were the Japanese responsible for the killing of this child?

Hmmm. Wellll. Ok. I’ve got it. It’s got to do with PlayStations.

PlayStations?

Yeah. That’s right. If the PSP3’s were not the 30 or 40k that they are, and more like in the 300 to 400 rupee range then the kid could have been at home playing a shoot-em up MMPORG in the virtual world and gotten killed many times over or kill many times over virtually, without getting actually offed in RL. There ya go. A bonafide blame.

This approach of trying to understand through the grimy lens of cause and effect in a situation like this is one of the most common knee jerk but ultimately flawed reactions that’s doing the rounds. The child didn’t die because the Muslims had gone out of control and the government was forced to respond with force to “quell the unrest”.

The child died because there is hardness in everyone’s hearts. Hardness and callousness. Sure, it’s not the India you know or love. But that’s where it’s at. And don’t worry it ain't some special affliction visitin Mama India; it is common enough across the board and crosses the entire planet.

Yeah, sure sleeper boy. You hate it sooo. But come on. (gently, softly said)

Awake, shake dreams from your hair, my pretty child, my sweet one…

You know the signs of our day

The divinity of our lives

The coming of the Sun

Ohhh yeeeah!Oooooh you make me Live!