So the girl we spoke about in 1908 - The (D)rape of my country, died today and I did feel a little bit of a itch and a twitch.
I should also admit though that I had a huge tub of ice-cream today evening, so whatever was the itch or twitch, it was not most definitely grief of a tragedy. Nobody chomps through pista icecream, as the misery unfolds.
Yet, in a strange contradiction, the whole of the media circus and the neighbor's wife are lighting candles, and holding token dharna and are abusing the politicos.
Sonia says “Justice shall be done” and Shahrukh says “ I am sorry for being a man (sic!!)” and “I shall fight with your voice”, and the nation mourns.
I don’t disagree with the mourning, which we should, for a tragedy, but I do question Shahrukh who fakes this and is going to be performing and celebrating new year in a very loud and burlesque manner, less than 24 hrs from now.
I admitted to the tub, but unseen and unbeknownst, I am sure quite a proportion of the candle lighters, will be chomping away once the tokenism assuages their conscience.
What I struggle with is, what more does this achieve than a few wasted candles and oodles of undirected angst.
We have not even spared personal tragedies from the Circus to which we have reduced modern suburban life to.
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