A time for Zorro.

I don’t know Jessica Lall.
In any case, a few hundreds are murdered in this country everyday.
Why then, should Jessica Lall make me feel so helpless?

Preity Zinta made a point on TV.
You can get a year, she said, for blackbuck.
But you can kill a person and get way with it.

It’s true.

A few notable examples.
Manu Sharma.
Admiral Nanda’s grandson.
Kunhalikutty.
Ameeta Modi and Sanjay Singh.
Amar Mani Tripathi.
Natwar Singh and son.

Clout circumventing the judicial process is old hat.
The issue today, is not that.

The issue is that all the above, are still welcome in our society.
They continue to hold offices.
They are still part of the social circuit.

This, their brazenness and our acceptance, spells doom.
It means that today’s Indian society, you and me included, are willing to condone murder.
Willing to condone the castration of justice.
Willing to turn a blind eye to anything that doesn’t directly involve us.
Willing to tolerate injustice.
Too ready, to forgive and forget.

We as a society have degenerated.
The letter of the law is strictly the letter of the law.
No longer does it hold a moral value for us.

It’s getting caught therefore, that makes crime a crime.
Not so much the act.

We don’t have a collective conscience as a nation any more.
We don’t have a sense of justice any more.
We don’t, as a nation, believe in the law any more.

Many, many years back, there was a crime of passion.
A naval officer called Nanavati shot his wife and her paramour.
Russi Karanjia of Blitz kept India focused on the case.
And the whole nation developed an opinion.
Including the then PM, Pt. Nehru.
(Driving opinion has its own dangers but the advantage was that everyone knew that the world was watching.)

If today, the bench knew that India was watching, would it acquit Manu Sharma so easily?
Would witnesses so easily turn hostile?

The Nanavati case awoke the collective conscience of a nation.
And Jessica Lall proved us that our consciences have gone to bed.

This is the time for Zorro.
A time for vigilantes.
This is the time for Biblical, barbarian justice.
An eye for an eye, ear for an ear.

Drag Manu Sharma to India Gate and hang him there.
For the murder of Jessica Lall.
And his father.
For the twin crimes of procreation and for believing that justice is there to be manipulated.

Will this happen?

Last year, Malayalam cinema had a rare box-office hit.
Directed by Jayaraj.
It had unknown faces and was pretty shoddily, frugally produced.

It featured 4 students who take the law into their own hands.
Who kill, maim and generally play Zorro.
It was a superhit.

It tells me a few things.
That audiences empathized with it.
And therefore, that there are millions out there who feel castrated.
That our society is full of impotent, angry, helpless youth.

And that, at a national level, always spells bloodshed.

The world is a fun place.

Here, laugh.

All of India is outraged.
Cotton farmer and Simi Garewal alike.
The good, London based Mr.Mittal has been slighted by France and Luxembourg.
The Indian government and people are livid.
Imagine, the cheek!
Dubya was right about those yellow livered, cheese....
And this gentleman is so patriotic that he hasn't even surrendered his Indian nationality!
One of our own!
This shall be discussed when Mr. Surrender Monkey himself is in town.
Monkey money, indeed!

Meanwhile, Palestinians have the right to self-determination.
Provided Israel agrees with what they, well, determine.
Hamas? No cash!

In far Iran.
Dubya has decided that enough is enough.
No more sabre rattling!
When Dubya says stop, you stop.
Or else, more American boys shall die civilising the turbans.

Elsewhere in Baghdad, unwashed barbarians run riot.
While poor American boys have their toys confiscated.
No more cameras, says the Pentagon.

Muammar Gadaffi has substituted his sabre for an iPod.
"Thid hadh more beauthifol noith", said M'mar.

Osama ruminates.
Laz-y-boy or the bone-setter?

In India, Manmohan is faced by the burning Bush.
To Iran or not to Iran?

As is all this isn't fun enough.
Protests break out all over the world.
People agree that the world is a great, fun place.
And we don't really need cartoons to liven it up.

The world is a fun place.
But I would rather be quail.
That seems to be more fun.
Imagine, a bird's eye view of lawyers eating dirt.
Duck, its Dick!

House-husband

Wake up.
Work for an hour.
Read the papers, through classifieds and forecasts.
Breakfast.
Hang around Raghu who thus far used to wash the car in peace.
Check the screws on the bike, kick-reassure the tyre.
Wife leaves for work.
Read.
Call wife.
Read.
Check furniture for dust.
Contemplate paunch.
Check waist with tape.
Call wife.
Warm lunch and gulp it down.
Inform wife that lunch has been had.
Read.
Doze.
Wake up, wipe book dry.
Check on bike.
Call wife.
Read.
Read Good Housekeeping.
Stare at mobile phone.
Hang around gate with dog.
Talk to dog.
Wife calls to say she'll be late.
Read Interiors.
Call dog names to see if he'll react.
Sing 'How much is that doggie in the window'.
Laugh hysterically.
Dog leaves with dignity.
Try new hair-style.
Read.
Wife comes home.
Show-off new hairstyle.
She has a headache.
Order from Wok-n-Grill.
Rum and coke.
Rum and coke.
Wok-n-Grill scooter arrives.
Try to engage delivery boy in conversation.
Eat.
Read.
Crash.

This is not what I had planned.
Not exactly.
When I first realised that I would be quitting my job, I immediately made 82 plans.
Or thereabouts.

Learn Malayalam.
(That I put off for later.)

Learn photography.
(Am halfway there. Have bought new digital SLR.)

Learn cooking.
(Halfway there again. Now know how to use microwave.)

Fix things in the house.
(This have been told not to.)

Look for business.
(There's no hurry on that.)

Write.
(Reading is an inspiration to write.)

Get fit.
(Tomorrow.)

Travel.
(Not doing too badly on that front.)

Spend time with oneself.
(Not doing badly on that front either.)

Contemplate.
(Am.)

Spend more time with wife.
(It's she who doesn't have any!)

Meet friends and drink.
(They don't have any time either.)

Put down the other 70.
(Can do.)

I have this against advertising.
It doesn't prepare a man for after.

And suddenly you realise.
That you have never spent time alone at home.
All your life.
School, followed by college followed by work.
You had parents at home during school.
Then pals in the hostels and chummeries.
And then, the lady of the manor.
You have never spent days at length alone at home.
You realise that a house in a quiet neighbourhood is quieter in the afternoon than at night.
That if you need a cup of coffee every hour, you need to make it yourself.
And the dog, is definitely not man's best friend.
I read a joke out aloud to him yesterday and the jerk walked away.

Believe the man, it takes getting used to.
And it's mighty dreadful till you do.
Wife agrees.

P.S. Wife read post and found it funny.
Woe is me.