I will never understand the celebration of hindu festivals as they do today. Pollution-friendly in every way. Noise, Air, Land, Water. Today as Diwali goes on, my ears feel like they are about to bleed any second. The skies shower residue from blown up rocket-crackers and the after-stink of something burning swirls into the room as my curtains flap. Do I shut the window to counter these inconveniences? It is past 2200 hrs. Past the curfew set for non-hindus. They pride themselves on being the world’s biggest democracy with a secular outlook, when I highly doubt both claims. That book sits, rotting and decadent, and we follow that which is almost a century old, based on other decadent compilations.
Another blast. Were it an Islamic festival, the Hindus would think it to be an act of terrorism. Were it that of any other minority, it wold be looked at as an attempt to step out of line and not respect the views of the State (you know, those bloody anti-nationalists.) I read in the paper today, that sugarcane farmers made an attempt to protest during this festive day, against the low prices of their crops. They blocked roads to make a point, to make people realise that while they are busy burning fuel (and thereby money and resources and adding to the pollution) there are sections who have nothing. It could easily be an attempt at being heard. To ask people to consider them. But they were silenced by guns. The state approves the use of arms in the face of danger. Oh yes. Danger. The population traveling from one region to another to “celebrate” a new year (what for, I will never know) is in danger of not being able to add to the crackers being blown up. Such monsters must be stopped. Monsters who do not respect the Hindu culturally hegemonic way of celebrating their greatness. Kill them. So that the rest in their cars may be pacified and can join in as their families (fat, alive) can sit around with bottles of alcohol (blame those Christians) and set fire to bundles of money, carefully mashed up, in a crafty manner, to form crackers by the sweat and blood of little children. Little children who sit in factories and use their ever so nimble tiny fingers to spot in very dim lit rooms, the correct place to insert those seeds of gunpowder. Because children need to work. Must be those lower caste ones. Those ones who never make it in life. Those ones who have never been educated thanks to the brilliant system in place. Those ones who struggle to get by daily and hope to never have to put their children through the same. But they work. Because their knowledge is not valid knowledge. No, sirr. You need to go to a University to get a Degree. And a Masters. To be smart. You need to be able to sit at home and depend on others for one of those. So that others who have access to those facilities can be fat and pretend to be liberal. And pretend to care.
So kill those farmers who dare to disrupt the peace and harmony that we intend on maintaining as we blow up crackers. And let those children work in dimly lit areas and get paid next to nothing, and have no future as we switch on all the lights possible, waste as much electricity to signify our devotion to some mythological creatures who apparently fought against evil.
Who are the evil ones, again?