With the Naxals gaining so much screen time on all news channels (India TV-awesome, just awesome!) these days, discussions have been ripe with the talk of how communism as an ideology has impacted our lives. Before going any further, I’d like to confess that I know just as much about communism as Stephen Hawking knows about giving a good lap dance. The only contact I’ve had with communism is the 9th std lesson on Karl Marx(for people who will remark that Marxism is totally different from communism ,I know, it’s ideal v/s practical-but the apparent difference is same as the difference between Sunny Deol in Gadar,and Sunny Deol in any other film-apart from the turban, everything else is same),and Motorcycle diaries, and yes ,the idle chatter I’ve eavesdropped upon from various people at various times of life that socialism is an utter failure.
However, this crib of mine is not against socialism, but faux socialist dudes. Some people claim the number of such youngsters out on street today is directly proportional to the sale of Motorcycle diaries. Okay, so the book is good, but not a landmark or something that’ll make you revolt against your rich capitalist dad and fight for a utopian society. People refuse to accept that Che was popular because of the weed. Grow your hair a bit, spread rumors about using weed daily, and you have got almost the entire generation of youngsters hooked( which makes me wonder if Rolling Stones, Nirvana, Bob Marley could have achieved cult status had they lived in a war-torn thirty-third world country)
So maybe the guy was great, maybe his book even, but my dear friend, reading that most-probably ghost written book makes you a communist just as much as watching American Pie(1-2-3 awesome, rest bakwaas) makes you a freshly baked oven delight. Sample this discussion-
Friend 1:”Hey man (in a strange Jamaican accent, but we’ll talk about accents sometime later), did you read about those jawans killed by the Naxals?”
Me:”That was one horrible massacre.”
Dickhead (the name I have assumed for faux communist dude, you’ll come to know why when you read what he had to say): That’s nothing, the government has been killing innocent Naxals (now that, I believe, is a parody) for so long, it’s almost justified.”
Me:”Dickhead. Nothing, nothing can justify that.”
Dickhead:”You don’t know the hardships they have had to face”
Me:” Okay, what do you know Mr. Industrialist’s son? Did you read about them on the internet while resting your comfy ass on a 15 inch water bed at 15 degree Celsius in your mood-lightened room? Or did your friend tell you something while smoking that 500-a piece hookah and 1000-a-bag weed?”
Dickhead (visibly confused): I……ummm…….I read in Motorcyc…….”
Me-not there in the scene anymore.
Its somehow cool to follow a radical group of people blinded by a failure-prone ideology sitting in a forest and killing innocent people. What next? Verappanism?
What drives such pseudo-intellectuals? The desire to be different from the crowd? The desire to impress other such socialist chicks(which invariably are dressed in long flowing skirts sporting a load full of junk jewelry and more kajal in their eyes than what a chicken poops in a day)?
The most satisfactory answer I’ve received so far-“I used to get off on this picture on Arundhati Roy when I was in my teens, and now I’m into it just because she’s in it as well.”(ahh…the fickleness of the mind!)
However, this crib of mine is not against socialism, but faux socialist dudes. Some people claim the number of such youngsters out on street today is directly proportional to the sale of Motorcycle diaries. Okay, so the book is good, but not a landmark or something that’ll make you revolt against your rich capitalist dad and fight for a utopian society. People refuse to accept that Che was popular because of the weed. Grow your hair a bit, spread rumors about using weed daily, and you have got almost the entire generation of youngsters hooked( which makes me wonder if Rolling Stones, Nirvana, Bob Marley could have achieved cult status had they lived in a war-torn thirty-third world country)
So maybe the guy was great, maybe his book even, but my dear friend, reading that most-probably ghost written book makes you a communist just as much as watching American Pie(1-2-3 awesome, rest bakwaas) makes you a freshly baked oven delight. Sample this discussion-
Friend 1:”Hey man (in a strange Jamaican accent, but we’ll talk about accents sometime later), did you read about those jawans killed by the Naxals?”
Me:”That was one horrible massacre.”
Dickhead (the name I have assumed for faux communist dude, you’ll come to know why when you read what he had to say): That’s nothing, the government has been killing innocent Naxals (now that, I believe, is a parody) for so long, it’s almost justified.”
Me:”Dickhead. Nothing, nothing can justify that.”
Dickhead:”You don’t know the hardships they have had to face”
Me:” Okay, what do you know Mr. Industrialist’s son? Did you read about them on the internet while resting your comfy ass on a 15 inch water bed at 15 degree Celsius in your mood-lightened room? Or did your friend tell you something while smoking that 500-a piece hookah and 1000-a-bag weed?”
Dickhead (visibly confused): I……ummm…….I read in Motorcyc…….”
Me-not there in the scene anymore.
Its somehow cool to follow a radical group of people blinded by a failure-prone ideology sitting in a forest and killing innocent people. What next? Verappanism?
What drives such pseudo-intellectuals? The desire to be different from the crowd? The desire to impress other such socialist chicks(which invariably are dressed in long flowing skirts sporting a load full of junk jewelry and more kajal in their eyes than what a chicken poops in a day)?
The most satisfactory answer I’ve received so far-“I used to get off on this picture on Arundhati Roy when I was in my teens, and now I’m into it just because she’s in it as well.”(ahh…the fickleness of the mind!)
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