Normally I do this Sundays. But Shashi Tharoor's "cattle class" kerfuffle on the heels of Obama's "jackass" reference, draws me out sooner. My dad has been following the media + political screaming match like all good letters-to-the-editor writing, barely-ever-voting citizens. He called me, rather distraught this morning and asked me to stop blogging (or twittering, both of which he uses interchangeably) since it is a "dangerous affair." That of course brings me straight here. My poor dad ponders the suicidal intent of having kids on a daily basis.
My homage to Tarantino... first a tenuously related Act 1.
Act 1: How many Yudhisthiras do we have in Indian Politics
- 25% of Lok Sabha members (136 MPs) have criminal records. I felt a fleeting sense of pride that it wasn't a bigger number, but that passed quickly .
- BJP MP from Gujarat, Babubhai Katara arrested for attempted trafficking - he tried to smuggle a woman across to Toronto using his wife's passport. Kithna romantic...hai na?
- Former Chhattisgarh chief minister, Ajit Jogi, arrested by the CBI in connection with the murder of NCP treasurer Ram Avtar Jaggi...was actually delighted to see the CBI getting some real action.
- BJP MP, Navjot Singh Sidhu kills a man in a road rage fit. Not sure if he goes scot-free because he is a cricketer or a politician...or both...
- Young lawmakers are more prone to breaking laws - which tells you this aint getting any better any time soon...
- 50 per cent of serious criminal cases registered against MPs were mostly from UP, Bihar, Jharkhand and MP..no surprise there
- The charges include a beautifully blended dysfunctional mix - murder, rape, extortion and attempted suicide...adding one more thing to their list of stuff they failed at...
Act 2: Travails of economy travel
To say this isn't a pain is like denying the concept of evolution...oh well. There was truth and a smattering of dark wit in what Tharoor said, but politicians and diplomats are held to some sort of Bhishmic standard when it comes to progressive commentary. Not saying that this is right or wrong but just that this is the hand that they have been dealt.
Some of you know me to be a free speech nazi but I also believe strongly in context. Just as Renuka Chaudary is an attractive, well spoken woman but does not delude herself into believing she is a Ms. Universe candidate, politicians cannot wing it like standup comedians. And in the age of the social networking virus, there are no more Rooseveltian secrets. Politicians in general and diplomats in particular just cannot have "Truth Tourrettes" as Jon Stewart calls it.
For the record - there is truth in what Tharoor said, but he cannot say it without getting in trouble. I felt especially bad for him when he had to explain semantics and intent which is horrific for any writer. Luckily I am not the Indian Minister of State for External Affairs or an MP (and never will be...have you read my blog?!). Therefore I have taken it upon myself to illustrate the plain truth about economy class travel.
I've experienced a wide range of train disasters including a projectile vomiting drunken youth as he hurled from the top berth (thank you Newton), creepy man in lungi hiking it down to have a go at himself at night...and the least offensive was an actual bomb blast. This is not just about Indian travel - overnight Amtrak rides are no picnic either.
My father is a second-hand Camry buying, truly austere man who has often riden with the "engine driver" as we call them. While I am no Paris Hilton, I also prefer not to be sprayed with human body fluids as I travel. Given that context, I wanted to share with you all an email I sent my father after he booked me in First Class instead of AC II Tier during my annual winter trip back home. The exact transcript with no embellishments is shown below. I hope you enjoy...
___________________________________________________________________________________
From: Me@email.com
Sent: Tuesday, December 02, 2008 1:28 AM
To: dad@email.com
Cc: myentourage@email.com
Subject: Veni, vidi, vici...not quite
This mail is primarily for you pa. I want to explain why I cried before getting onto the train at Chennai Central station. I know it makes very little sense to you and it is androgenically easy for you to assume it was an inexplicable estrogen outburst.
Here's the deal though - we come from very different worlds on this travel circuit thing. For starters I do NOT like to leave home for ANY reason. And if I do, train is about my least favored mode of transport...probably just a notch above "dinghy hijacked by Somalian pirates."
Since you dont necessarily believe in the concept of empathy - let me quickly give you the highlights of my recent First Class non-AC cabin trip from Chennai to Telicherry. In terms of an assault on the senses this one was high up there.
Yeah there was grime, dirt, and untold numbers of visible dubious stains that my daughters were only too willing to touch and lick. That was an awesome experience. Then there was that persistent smell of adult male poo (most virulent version) that actually takes a human form, travels by foot, picks you up by the collar and asphyxiates you. This happens about 180% of the time of the journey. I believe they also removed the shock absorbers from these carriages. So every second registers on the Richter scale and you are there for the ride...of course you are there...where else can you go?!
And while AC sequesters you from some of these sights, sounds and smells - there was no reprieve here since you can hear every "kadakbhadak, chadak dhadak" and a blaring horn that only seemed to happen once every nanosecond. This is highly recommended when traveling with an NRI infant and preschooler because it really calms and comforts them.
Since this is the pre'cis version I will not go into more agonizing details of my trip - but I have to talk a little about the icing on this nauseous cake. That coupe' we were supposed to have...remember...with just the four of us - my lovely nuclear family? Well..in reality...we traveled with two other strange men? I need to give you a quick recap on "one Mr. Balakrishnan" as they say here. He perched himself on the top sleeper across from me and can best be described as a lecherous cross between a Dravidian and a hippo in heat. He thought it would make my trip that much more memorable if he just kept staring and visually undressing me for as long as the lights were on. That was truly spectacular experience for a much married mother of two. I guess it was just as enjoyable when I was a single woman but I have just been out of touch with this...a little.
Anyhoo - back to the future. I cried then because I knew what I was going to face before I got onto that hell express. And it angered me that I had not stopped it ahead of time and forced you to NOT cancel the AC tix. It angered me that I failed me. You have to believe me that not for a moment did I blame you.
So that is my emotionally loaded, devalued two cents. I know you think I am high maintenance - but I am a valuable, recession fighting consumer. You must feel like I am a traveling Narakasura born to your austere Varaha Avatar- but you cannot deny that I keep it interesting :)
Take care and luv
me
Thanks for reading! Less snark ...more truth in this week's edition of Utter Desiness. Would love to hear from you on your thoughts about any or all of this post...