Happy Freaking New Year!

Happy Freaking New Year!

It's always the same thing this time of the year, isn't it?  Of course a New Year has to come by, and of course we must be happy that we survived the last one, but can it ever be Enlightened New Year! or Healthy New Year! or Peaceful New Year!?  After all, there is precious little we can do to be happy if we are not healthy, peaceful and/or enlightened.

It would tax our poor minds to try and be any of this.  But we can be happy, freaking happy, without any risk of mental, physical, or spiritual overheating.  It always comes down to the lowest nonsense we can be sold.  And yes, it is official, it is all about selling us something.  Happiness can be sold.  In ridiculous quantities, just like sadness, but for now I will stick with this disease called happiness that many of us would like to be addicted to.

When I see that svelte model selling me a car with a huge big smile on her face, I want to slap that bitch.  No, not the bitch that is doing the modeling for she needs the money and the uplifting experience of showing up, but the bitch that was conceived in some advertising hero's head that if there is a svelte bitch grinning at me invitingly, I am unlikely to notice the shitty engine, the lousy engineering, the extras that don't come with the base model, and the terrible service, and actually shell down a few lakhs of my hard earned money on a stupid car.  That is the insult I can do without.  Happy freaking New Year.

When I see the troupe of little shits telling me to put my AC at a certain temperature so that my cooling is "sensible", I want to boot those smiling germs out of my sight.  Again, not the pampered upper middle class urban Indian little shits, whose parents are busy shagging every rupee out of their jobs and businesses imagining modeling is some sort of career for their little shits, but the little shits that got approved by the marketing manager of this air conditioner company that believes I can be sold a fucking air conditioner by attaching this cute little bunny train of smiling satans to his stupid product.

Yeah, I'd like to be happy as much as anybody else, and most of the time, I am.  But these times are when I am distinctly disjointed to the "idea" of happiness.  I don't want any symptom of happiness to be ever present and showing itself.  It is fucking fake and I am sick of it.

I really don't want plastic air hostesses smiling at me when I enter a plane.  I have done it many times before and I'm hardly likely to refuse to fly after buying the ticket and going through that harrowing nonsense called check-in and security check, including the statutory rape carried out by the assholes with the metal detectors that have so far not managed to nab a single terrorist, but have indeed allowed many to pass through and hijack planes.  But I can put up with collective dumbness, since that damn airplane is a damn good invention if it can spare me from the piss and shit smelling railway stations and bus stops and get me very quickly to my destination.

I acknowledge I love some air hostesses.  They are just sexy enough to let me remember what to grab if the plane goes into a tumble mid air.  I'm sure God will be very happy to welcome the bastard who remembered to live in the moment, even in his last moment!  Happy Freaking New Year!

After going through the horrors of delays and bad food and terrible in-flight conditions, OR the miracles of on time departures, landings and safe exit from the plane, surely, we can be spared the electronic voice telling us we are welcome at the arrival airport, where we really want to spend the least amount of time!  I cannot understand why it takes us about an hour to fly five hundred kilometres, but it takes our bags one third of that time to get to us from the same plane we came on, to our hands.  But I am happiest in that waiting period at the baggage claim area, because there is a quiet, a calm, nobody selling us anything, and no grinning asshole there handing our bags to us!  The luggage just shows up, with minimal fuss, as the coldest, most impersonal machine keeps all nonsense out of the way.  Thank you very much, dear machine and thank God for the inventor that removed the human element from this one.  I really appreciate this not being one more fucking happy experience to soak up.

Insincerity I can handle - salesmen doing their job, being competitive - I get that.  But why the fuck do they have to sell me something based on THEIR assumption that I am not content?  This is the part that really pisses me off.  It's just hard for me to sympathize with presumptuous assholes who go to business school and "learn" that they can take it upon themselves to "sell" me something, which necessarily means an intrusion into my mind space.  Who the fuck gives these motherfuckers the permission? 

If there is any law that prevents one kind of nuisance, like taking a piss on the wall, why can't there be a law on other kinds of nuisance?  Get off a train at 5 in the morning at Chennai Central, and the TV screens attack you with loud music and dancing chicks gyrating and welcoming you to buy clothes, another bunch of whores asking you to buy spices!  They are all grinning orgasmically. and being really inviting, but at 5 AM, I could really use a peaceful walk to the exit.  End result?  This irritation is what I remember and I have remembered never to buy clothes at those shops and never to buy that brand of masala.  Happy Freaking New Year idiots!

There are a couple of very happy fat bastards on TV that I'd like to really send running into a desert, chased by hounds.  They show up on food programs, and go all over India tasting a variety of foods.  They do a very good job of showing us and teaching us how a variety of food is cooked, but how the fuck are these bastards happy with every fucking thing they eat?  I love food, too, but I don't swoon with every new dish I taste!  I just cannot buy the monkey's expression when it grins to the lens after eating something someone in a totally strange land and culture just made - every fucking time!  Even my dog takes a few seconds to totally sniff out and check out something new I may feed him.  He doesn't fall for it, so why would I, motherfucker?

Now, I can be kind and assume these fat bastards are happy they are getting a lot of food to feed their big guts, but then what about the bitches that are there at the flick of a button, selling me shit to lose weight?  They are giddy whores, grinning their asses off, working out on contraptions that resemble nothing in nature.  Some of them are even torturing others in groups, and I can tell not all of them are happy.  Physical exercise is hard, and the payoff is good health and fitness, and of course the release of endorphins, also called "happy hormones", but endorphins just make one feel stress free and relaxed.  I have had enough number of endorphin hits to know I don't feel like grinning at some unknown asshole.

I don't need a grinning Mr. Universe telling me how good this piece of equipment is.  He just has to tell me with a straight face what the benefits might be.  If I wasn't interested in fitness, would I be listening to his spiel anyway?  So what is he selling me?

How come teachers do not grin when they teach us, say, geometry?  Sex sells.  We know that.  And sex is supposed to deliver us to ... what else?  Freaking Happiness!  So, what if teachers were to turn on sexiness while explaining what happens when one line bisects another?  Are you kidding me?  A lot of people would be up in arms against this kind of teaching.  But we have no problem whoring our kids out to sell other people some shit with their cuteness?  Adults have sex to sell us shit, kids have cuteness.  What's the difference?  Both look pleased as punch!

Why would ANYBODY be happy to sell us insurance policies?  Insurance is always against bad news, like injury, death, disability, illness, and the lot of miseries is it not?  So, why are insurance agents always grinning like their policy will bring us happiness?  It might deliver us out of misery, but it sure as hell won't deliver any happiness.  And why are those little shits put in this game too, and why are they too grinning while doing this shit?  I swear, any kid that ever talks to me about insurance is going to need dental insurance.

We really should groom our children to regulate their happiness quotient.  They should bloody well not be happy all the time.  It can without a doubt affect their emotional growth if they know only giddy happiness and do not know what it means to be reflective, sad, disturbed, anxious, worried, peaceful, euphoric, light, thrilled, giving, emotionally generous, neurotic and even crazy!  There is much subtlety to be lost by prescribing happiness and by subscribing to it like the dumb assholes we are taken for.

I've had enough and more Happy New Years.  This time I hope to have something of substance.  And I wish you a wonderful, substantial New Year!

If you don't care - hey!  Happy Freaking New Year!

- BSK.

Mumbai Selling

The new ad. for "Khatron Ki Khiladi" on the new channel to come - Colors (notice the missing U?), warns that all the stunts are being performed under expert supervision in South Africa according to applicable regulations (Sounding very much like the Americans who love to write "This is not a toy" on plastic bags), and extends itself, huffing and puffing, to say "Viewers shouldn't try these stunts, especially children".

Now, either that means the stunts are really child's play and even children will want to try them, or our children would really listen to their parents yelling "Pinky! Leave the helicopter alone. You really shouldn't be following Akshay! No Chotu, you can't take the speedboat either!"

Are we hapless masses in India supposed to enjoy something being performed in South Africa with an American idea? How about talking in Polish with Korean subtitles, idiots? Oh, you want this to be a Hindi show? So, why isn't the show's name ever written in Hindi? Could it be because the people who can read Hindi would never watch this show? Or could it be you couldn't really come up with another name for "Fear Factor" that isn't equally dumb?

This is supposed to impress those of us who read in English, hear in Hindi, relate to American culture, and are willing to put up with South African regulations? Why not just show us the original show if we are this international in our taste?

It takes a bevy of beauties to go on some dangerous missions with Akshay Kumar? Fair enough. Television courting titillation is nothing new, but I would rather watch no TV at all than being forced to watch these unathletic acting career dropouts trying to hitch a ride to South Africa under some idea of "cool" invented last night. And these chicks telling us who they are - why? Who cares? To me, they all look the same, sound the same, and act the same. There is a serious business opportunity for a company that can invent and sell new types of giggles. And it can be called "Giggles for Dummies".

The show promises lizards and snakes licking these desirable nubiles - are we supposed to be scared of these creatures? We are still a nation where a large number of people are bitten by snakes on a regular basis, and yet, we do have any mortal fear of the creatures. We even have seven year old girls chasing away leopards with sticks and winning bravery awards from the President. Sweep all this under the carpet while watching another Whitey show ranking snakes for how deadly they are, and you are the perfect candidate to welcome the new White invasion of our culture, this time the mindsets.

Right on the heels of this one, we have BIG BOSS! A bunch of people in a house. So? The ads make this out to be some sort of macabre, extremely menacing proposition and we are supposed to be interested in who survives the rest of the loonybins in the house? Are we supposed to wait in trepidation to see where this next experiment in social engineering will take us? Or will we be spared the end of the season and have some actress cry foul and make news for herself while the show tops every toilet in viewerland?

What kind of Mumbai morons come up with these ideas to copy shows that are boring to start with? What kind of braindead, drugged out dopes are getting paid to come up with these ideas, and what kind of mediocrity marinated lunatic bosses okay these ideas?

We as Indians, have a long tradition of notions, as long as our history itself. These notions are complex and sophisticated, and we have never cared to explain or analyze any of these, because... we don't really care! It takes a lot to dumb us down, and while we might buy into a bit of dumbness once in a while, Mumbai trying to sell us the whole whale is out of the question.

Bottomline - we are not American, and none of the doped out foreign culture sucking assholes in Mumbai, from the uncreative bowels of their below mediocre television culture needs to tell us what we should like and what is cool. We're already cool and we don't really care about that either.

Which one of those dickheads is running Star TV in India? Somebody tell that knucklehead that we don't need to be told what is coming in the "Sizzling Summer" like the Asia Cup and Wimbledon, when it is pouring cats and dogs. Maybe these people are snorting dope all day long and don't even notice that summer is long gone for the 16 percent of the world's population that is keeping one of these sports alive!

That idiot on AXN who's been pronouncing Maruti as "Muhroodee" for ages - can someone other than the RSS tell this fool to get names right(especially those of Hindu Gods!), before letting his voice travel over the airwaves? I really wouldn't mind slitting the throat of the fool who approved this idiot's work, just for the incompetence it shows, or the indifference to Indian viewers who are being subjected to this nonsense.

It isn't as if a foreign culture has never made it to the shores of India. For thousand of years, we have been bombarded by things foreign. But this new phenomenon, of Indians telling other Indians how we must ape others, is new. And it is being fostered in Mumbai, squarely.

It neither begins nor ends with this arbid fiction film world called Bollywood (oh, what a coincidence it has taken to this name with love!). It spreads rather unceremoniously to news channels as well. The 11th of July bombings in Mumbai were shamelessly referred to as the "Seven Eleven" bombings, just so it rhymes with the white man's violent castration of sorts caused on "Nine eleven". When in India did we ever use the month before the day in mentioning a date?

I have heard we have monkeys in Hyderabad, who celebrate Halloween! Halloween, for heavens' sake! What does India have to do with Halloween? One can understand Valentine's day as an opportune moment to woo someone who has already fallen for that one, but Halloween!? I can only say to those who celebrate Halloween in India - to borrow from Mumbai cinema - that they really mustn't have drunk their mother's milk!

The number of advertisements in India, especially for high end clothing, that carry white faces - yet another disgusting low. Why ever should we wear something made here because a white man is ready to wear it? And the number of corporate websites that have pictures of very unproductive but cute looking white faces will give you an idea where India really doesn't want to let go of imperialism, even if we were not the imperialists to start with.

Just so we are not perceived as being racist in our blindness, look at how many avatars Abhishek Bachchan has taken up where he wears clothes like black rappers and moves his hands like he was a tattooed, just released from jail black man expressing himself on the streets of Chicago? I wonder if he would love to get sodomized in an all black jail in the USA, just so he can boast of having "been there, done that".

It isn't as if all copies are incapable of merit and success in our own context. Kaun Banega Crorepati is a much better show than its original, impersonal American version, but it was Big B that made the wonderful warm difference. Indian Idol is indeed a good opportunity for young talent to get picked up to good futures in the entertainment industry although I wonder how many people would recognize Prashant Tamang here than they would in Nepal!

The biggest question to ask is - why doesn't Mumbai copy the best of others' work? The master film makers today, in unabashed open view and in the greatest truth of the marketplace, are mostly white and from Hollywood. India has no Clint Eastwood, no Spielberg, no Terrence Malick, and no Scorsese. Mumbai doesn't have a Leonardo DiCaprio, and we most certainly don't have a Denzel Washington. (India has a Kamal Haasan, but he doesn't work in Mumbai)

The answer is - it's hard work being good. So, if you're not willing to work hard to create something original, and if you have no cultural roots to give you a sense of who you really are, if you are willing to take little crumbs of copied semi-original material and leave it to the marketing machine to make you, then you would do well in Mumbai. But if you are one of these, keep your shit to yourself and don't unleash it on the rest of us who can still tell the difference.

There are many actors and actor wannabes in Mumbai who can swear by the amazing actors Hollywood produces. Great actors come from great material. No screenwriters since the days of Salim-Javed have produced tight screenplays in commercial Mumbai. We will forgive the exceptions like Govind Nihalani for now. There simply is no respect for great writing, and indeed no demand for it. Some of the scripts that get approved for production have absolutely no potential to be "great" in any context, except maybe as recycled paper. All that Mumbai cares about now is "packaging" and as long as that sort of "packaging" has worked in the West, it is happy to ape, rape, and expect us to gape.

Deserving mention are the actress wannabes that show up in Mumbai, dressing and making themselves up like Western women, slimming themselves down, and throwing themselves about just like the women they watch on TV. The same mannerisms, the same attitudes, and the same level of fake confidence. All good, till they come to pronounce "sandvich" or having to understand the interviewer who asks a question longer than five words. Then, in one instance, all the glam falls away, and the villager is exposed. God bless them for their dreams, but what animal are they trying to ape? White western women, of course!

Salma Hayek doesn't hide her native English accent, and no European stars really worry about their identities while having to operate in a foreign language like English. So, what is wrong with us? A really deep inferiority complex? Just hating being Indian? Both? Pathetic.

And what's up with rampantly using the Indian flag and patriotic rubbish to sell products? Do you rascals really have to be that much of a sell out? Mind and body, heart and soul, your creativy is up the pole.