Seriously....!

Have you ever been attacked by hysteria at the most inopportune moment and dissolved into helpless peals of hideous laughter that made everyone who crossed your path stumble backwards with raised eyebrows, dropped jaws, and soundless screams? It happened to me just the other day.

I was in an auto on my way to work at 2 p.m. - a situation in which sane people would be at their waspish best which is how I am most of the time. I must confess I'm not given to easy laughter for many reasons: 1. My teeth don't exaclty qualify for a toothpaste ad. 2. My nephew told me the first time that he heard and saw me laugh, that I sounded and looked like a "hyena" - it's not very original but if you hear it from a 2-year-old close to tears, you have to believe it. 3. Life IS funny anyway. Why laugh and compound your misery? 4. Imagine a startled cat wheezing laboriously while being spun around in a washing machine and you'll know what I sound like when I laugh. 5. Imagine 220 volts of electricity and gallons of water supplied to your face and you'll know what I look like when I laugh.

NOW, imagine an otherwise dull and lifeless dish rag suddenly infused with lively pulsating energy that is largely uncontrolled, with no immediate discernible provocation. Some long-forgotten memory popped into my sun-touched head and what started as a quiet chuckle, proceeded to a prolonged giggle, then grew into a throaty laugh (see point #4 above for definition of "throaty"), and then seemingly got away from my hands..or is it my mouth?...or is it my belly? Where DO laughs originate anyway? (Don't answer)

As the rickety auto bounced along, I sat in the back seat struggling to get a hold of my contorted facial features. The auto driver at first was just annoyed, then distracted, then seriously worried, and finally downright terrified. "Should I stop?" he asked turning back, sending me into fresh bouts of hysteria. He turned around and continued to drive. For as long as I live, I will never forget the look on his face.

He picked up speed so that the unsuspecting passerby who just happened to glance into the speeding auto saw a rigidly upright terrified driver with a hysterically gasping passenger flailing wildly in the back seat. Every time I saw a face like that on the road with the deer-caught-in-headlights look, I got hysterical afresh. Finally, I forgot the original source of my hysteria and began pointing, slapping my thigh, and throwing back my head and roaring at anyone who dared to look into the auto.

The auto continued to hurtle along and in my state, I failed to notice that the driver had sped past my office, till he'd gotten away a good distance. When that realization dawned, my hysteria disappeared instantly and I barked at the auto driver to stop. He turned around and saw my bared fangs and heard my rumbling growl and promptly fainted. I left the money on his head, got out, and cussed loudly as I trekked to my office in the baking sun.

I'm sure it was just some sort of allergy because as I entered the office, I saw someone talking and laughing on the phone. I marched up to him and wordlessly socked his jaw. Then, I turned around and went home and slept. When I woke up at 10 p.m., mercifully, I was completely cured.

What so thrilling?

We’ve existed as a Republic for almost 6 decades now and still our farmers who feed us are taking their own lives because they can’t eat. We celebrate Republic Day without a trace of irony. We show our might, we march, we salute our flag, we sing our national anthem loudly, we swell with pride about being Indian and heap scorn on those unwilling to participate in this hypocrisy – who are we trying to impress? Why can’t we take a long hard look at ourselves and admit that we’ve completely lost our way? That our priorities are so mixed up that we put celebrity weddings on front radars and our dying farmers on the backburner? That our elected representatives have made fools of us for 6 decades now? That “India shines” only for a miniscule percentage of her children while a vast majority eat out of her rubbish bins to satisfy their hunger? That our shameful judiciary lets people like Lalu Yadav, Sanjay Dutt, and Navjot Singh Siddhu walk and makes heroes of them? Should we be proud? That our children are not safe anywhere anymore? That we have accomplished record levels of intolerance in this once model pluralistic society? That our freedom fighters and ex-sportsmen beg on our streets to eat? That we’ve mortgaged our oldest political party to a foreigner whose only qualification is that she has none? What’s so thrilling about the rape of our cities in the name of progress? About our moral decadence in the name of global citizenship? About our creative bankruptcy and our recycled greatness in shiny new packages? About our nonexistent voice in influential international trade and political bodies? How responsibly have we behaved with our neighbours? How many can we count as our friends? Isn’t it a shame that we haven’t mended fences with a single one of our immediate neighbours in our 6 decades of existence? That we cannot educate or employ millions of our children? That we deny them their very basic right to dignity? That we simply let our old, our poor, and our sick die while we worship our cattle, hold up torches for our stray dogs, and violently defend our Gods?

What’s so thrilling about being an almost 60-year old Republic?