Tuesday, July 19, 2011
A Common Man
I’m a common man. Not the one created by none other than R K Laxman. I’m unlike HIS common man. I wear jeans to cover up my assets but not a dhoti to blow up the same as liabilities.
Plus my pair of jeans helps me run fast to flee from the scene whenever I sense there is something which might endanger me and my existence while I peep or poke my Virat (Big) Naak (Nose) into anything, everything that happens around. Locally, regionally, nationally, or globally.
I don’t know how far I know a thing or two, and knowing that… is any knowledge or not, but I know those knowledge is enough for me to know what I know and don’t know.
Ask me about anything and look for an answer, I can tell you that immediately. As long as Google and Wikipedia are not down, I’m up to it.
I have a desktop which I upgrade almost every year to enhance my hardware and software of knowledge. My net connection is called broadband which comes to me through cables those are ‘environment friendly’.
In the summer, the cable melts down; in the monsoon, it gets wet; in the winter, it catches cold and in the spring, it falls in love with other users… so is hacked.
I also have a laptop and a data card. But I hardly use them in order to save the battery that’s the energy, as well as to save the money. Thereby I contribute immensely to the natural resources and to the national economy.
Though I have always preferred strawberries to a blackberry and bananas to an apple, still I don’t mind to have more fruits, everyday, for a healthy lifestyle and a fruitful life.
In fact, if an apple could produce one Newton already, why can’t it produce another? So I’m hopeful about my future at present referring to the past.
Well, Newton reminds me of Physics. I mean the subject that’s full of calculations and manipulations. I guess this very discipline of knowledge is the culprit to make humans so calculative and manipulative. I detest it, for that. Physics without the arts of physique and figure; impossible!
Had there been only Sanskrit and Shakuntala and me, life would have been so refreshingly fresh to love and make love even while the senSEX dropped. Below 1700 points or further. I know there may have been an outside chance of Dushmanta creating problems into my love life but, anyway, for him the local party office of CP(I)M or the councilor of TMC could just come handy.
Time to time, I need to travel. Outside West Bengal. I like to travel by train to a plane; however I know anytime from the train I CAN travel to the sky close to that plane I have chosen not to board on. Courtesy Maoists, elephants, a cabin man, or signals.
On the other hand, even if I fly, I might also land up on the railway tracks, in case a pilot feels like posting an emergency tweet or a status message on facebook about how bad the weather is, how the engine is malfunctioning, and how he’s unable to contact the control traffic at the base. So, he needs the support from the social networking sites. Besides, I’m not eliminating the Diwali-in-the-air celebration of any terrorist group which might find my spirit too resilient and robust to blow off into pieces and puffs.
Whatever it is; terrorists and terrorism interest me. And why not? Post every blast, I always have so much to say on TV channels or on twitter and Facebook. As long as a hearse car or an ambulance is not needed for my family members or me after a blast, I have got just the right opportunity and OCCASION to express my care, concern, anger and frustration to the world.
Make no mistake, by doing so I’m doing nothing wrong at all. Because as a responsible citizen – I the Person of We the People – of a democratic country, I DO have every right to sit on the computer or show up on the news channels… so as to stand up, debating, against all the wrong and the odds… to Stop the Buck.
Also, during that period, my wife might not push me for any window shopping or multiplexed movie or mall hopping; my mother-in-law’s arthritis pain might take some welcome rest; my kid’s homework might be delayed; and my boss might indulge in some impromptu CRS programs and other PR activities. And while it happens, bingo, I get some time to think of the nation for its people before Sachin makes yet another century just to hit my concentration over the rope again, as if I’m not a Virat Hindu… thus can’t think of the people, by the people, for the people of Hindustan nee India.
Meanwhile, Harry Potter is there, I mean was. Murdoch is there, Gorkhaland is there, Maria Susairaj is there, Index and Dalal Street are there… altogether to send my patriotism for a toss in line with Dhoni’s toss against Strauss in England.
Where is the time then? To do, what should be done for the country! Actually there is no solution. On top of it, I have to attend parties; give muahs at least a thousand per day; need to miss all the dear and near ones from a safe distance; receive and give so many missed calls; read all the promo SMS; tweet; FB; Link(ed) in and so on…
In addition, I have weekly fast, bimonthly satyagrahas, fortnight satsang, yoga class, mediation, gyming, swimming, Ramdev following or UPA and Congress bashing, Anna Hazare white marketing and sales, RSS feeds, Virat Hindu Sabhas, BJP jigs, Land or Khand federalisms, daily debates, hourly news, Bade Achhe Lagte Hai episodes… "OMG! My hands are full and tight."
Now, you may feel that as a common man I'm worthless, just like your old furniture or the father on KBC promo, but I know I do a hell lot of things, silently, unknowingly, unconsciously, unreadily and, most importantly, ‘funnily’.
And, finally, please NOTE, even this blog: ‘A Common Man’ – you have not written for me either. (In my trademark bad and wrong English, for that matter.)