Mumbai had seven bomb blasts in the space of half an hour on Tuesday. So I bet everybody heard. And by everybody, I mean even the blind cat who resides on my neighbour’s bicycle each night. Whatever happened was horrifying, and I hope more than anybody else that the whole of Pakistan, the LeT and SIMI be bombed (when are we going to use those nuclear weapons anyway?). But seriously people, enough ranting and raving and move on! Go out there, try and donate blood, give monetary help, do whatever little you can do, but for Pete’s sake, try and stop making it a charade. What’s with the roses on people’s messenger IDs? And ‘three cheers for Mumbai’ messages on radio? And boo hoooo sob sob stories all over the Times of India? Honestly, how bloody sappy can one get? Around 200 people (and still counting) perished in the blasts. So are you going to tell me how it happened to each person individually? And the experiences of the others who managed to survive? I am sorry, but this does nothing to encourage my positive outlook and sense of security, other than bring me down. What I need right now, is in-depth coverage on what the government is doing (or rather not doing) to capture the persons responsible for this massacre, why they didn’t respond to the intelligence reports they had, what are they doing about prevention of such acts in future. Give me that, and I’ll be prepared to know how someone’s head came right off from the rest of his body. Please, we don’t need gory stories like that.
In other news, there is a careful look by all commuters about the train when the people get in. One woman almost uprooted all the seats. And stray bags on the luggage rack make everyone shifty, hoping the owner would simply get off. Wonder how long this ritual is gonna last. And as usual, the woman next to me, irrespective of who she is, wants to make sick snort sounds. Uncouth bitches. And DP’s gave me a complimentary hair in my
sambar too. It was small and curly, so I don’t want to imagine where it came from. Ahem…!
Anyways, nothing much happening in class these days. The usual fools making bigger fools of themselves. ‘Chesty’ making unusually dumb faces today, her drooping mouth almost drooping to her knees. Dear darling ‘Nandi’ looked even more of a bull today, and one of these days, I’m going to bring some fodder for her to chew on in class, to keep her from interrupting a perfectly interesting lecture with stupid doubts. In her defense, I’d say she is quieter these days. But maybe that’s because of, like Avani says, her secret fantasies about all the greenery around college, and how she could be gorging on it. Who else? Poopbag keeps playing idiotic rock songs on her second hand Ngage phone, and singing along in an even more idiotic voice. And will someone please tell her that her new hairdo makes her hair look like a lion’s mane? That is not good hair, that is DAMAGED hair! Get a life please. Agarbatti steadfastly avoids Avani’s gaze and we burst into silent giggles. The loser guy with six inch heel shoes still wears them. Height of hi-utility all-weather shoes.
But then, what would have we done without these idiots to keep us amused? But then, too much amusement from the same people can’t crack us up repeatedly. Someone volunteering to be a fool, please? PLEASE?
