Though Indian by roots, I used to live in the United States. And, since my childhood I had heard that India is a country where spiritual awakening is mingled in the air like a lullaby. Everywhere, the incense sticks emit the fragrance of different religions. Different sages with their magnanimous wisdom have irrigated the soul of this land.
I was very curious to know about the land.
But the revelations that I encountered were a far cry from the serene picture of India that I had in my mind.
The litter was decking up all the places with painstaking finesse. All the Land Rovers and Mercedes were smugly traversing distances by drenching their tyres in the human urine that was just passed out the overflowing tank. All the brand image of these automobile behemoths was blissfully coexisting with the mélange of muck.
I had always been interested in murals and frescos. And in India I experienced a different kind of art form. Here in India, I saw people dangling their tools out of their pants to paint the walls and that too without showing any inhibition of any kind.
The people were spitting the juice of the betel nuts on the walls to defeat every effort of Pablo Picasso in the arena of art.
I was always of the impression that to get a pout like Kim Kardashian, you need multitude of moolah. But again, I was gob- smacked to know the very cheap way to get a pout like Kim. And the secret was filthy khaini (a form of tobacco). People usually put it under their lips and suck on the juice of the herb. And after they are finished with it, they spit it out without even caring about the place.
Indian mothers have been given all the respect in the world. They are compared to the goddesses but my experience was a little different. I saw Indian mothers cleaning up the bottoms of their darlings and throwing the poop smeared newspapers on the roads to stick to the tyres or slippers or shoes of pedestrians.
I had heard that India was getting good numbers of managers from their top-notch institutes. But the best management skills I found out in a sweeper of a clinic in India. And the way he managed all the medical wastes was really a lesson to learn. He just threw all the medical waste in open and let the syringes and saline bottles become the toys of slum children. And those children started playing with deadly toys in gay abandon. When I tried to preach them about the dangers of using the medical wastes as toys, they threatened me to jab with one of the syringes. I ran frantically from that place saving my posterior.