So they had installed condom vending machines to reduce the spread of AIDS. Initially people were quite wary of spending and expected them as complimentary gifts. They broke open the machines, took away as much they needed. But that carried grave risks coupled with limited supply. They sought privileged access. Turns out some eager chaps have taken the vending machines home!
Imagine what happens next:
He: “Look babe, what did I get! Lets get ready *blushing*”
She: “Oh wow! But dah’ling… this requires us to put in coins every time we need a pack”
He: “Darn… do we have any coins here?”
She: “Hell no… what are we going to do now?”
He: “I know what we’ve to do… pay-phones… let me go get a few! I’ll be right back, and then we’ll… *blushes more* … happily ever after!”
All ye policemen and municipalitymen, if you’re reading this, you know where to look for your condomaniac-turning-phonomanic! And for those who’ve still not taken any lessons, act now. Better safe than sorry — there’s still quite a few machines out there.
I remember this word ever since I had read The Alchemist. It is an Arabic word, which means “it’s written”. Someone asked me recently, whether I am superstitious: the question made me ponder. Is it being superstitious when you believe that it’s written? I guess not. Is the belief impractical? I wouldn’t worry about it. It works!
This weekend I saw Slumdog Millionaire, and found it quite well-executed. There was a debate about whether Slumdog’s a pervert, voyeuristic exhibition of India’s poverty and everything bad about India or just an attempt at realism. I wondered whether this was the first attempt at realism by any film-maker, considering the noise that has been made around the plot and some of the scenes of the film. Especially when I remember the 1991 Bollywood art film Salaam Bombay or Dev Benegal’s English, August. All these were made in the 90s, when India was just about turning into the “center of the world” as Salim puts it, in Slumdog Millionaire. Nobody cared to peddle the term “ poverty porn” earlier, when these films were released. Perhaps, this debate was written too!
A few weeks ago, I had seen a play titled “Kavita Bhaag Gayi” (transliterated as “Poetry is absconding”), which describes a young poet who has forgotten how to write poetry. His loss of prose is blamed on the stressful and frightening lifestyle in modern day Mumbai which is caught in a spate of terror attacks, language wars and disputes over political propaganda. Although the play was thought provoking, but its impact lasts just so long as we step out to get lost in the mobs. Sadly, the satirical taunts made by the protagonist were laughed at by the audience – most likely they were lost as attempts at ridiculing the (parallel, real life) characters in question.
A lesson I learnt from both these experiences is that we as a population get too engrossed in the superficial detail (I know this is an oxymoron, thank you), and are hardly bothered to understand the crux of the matters at hand. And I sincerely hope this exercise is not a part of the larger process of make-believe, of putting up an intelligent face. Besides, by doing nothing about it, I too would be an accomplice in spreading the rot. One does not need to make a choice here: the question is of taking the first step. If one waits for the next person to take the first step, well, this bit is not written for sure. That first step will remain as distant as ever!
Niren 