Shave & Haircut
I am actually looking forward to the gigantic statue of Maratha warrior Shivaji being erected off Mumbai’s coastline. Having been to Bangalore a couple of times, I realize how much stuff written in their language kept reminding me I was in a different territory, and how stuff written in Marathi may act as a deterrent to mischievous immigrants. Isn’t reminding people they’re not at home a polite way of asking them to behave themselves?
The statue of Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj will stand tall at 309 feet, but I wish they’d pay this tribute to someone who represents the whole nation, as Shivaji is more Maharashtra-specific. Whatever, as along as there’s no Gandhi. And let’s not cry about money, at least this time we know where 350 crore is being shoved.
Growing old and growing up are two different things that have been confusing people since forever. Puberty gave me facial fuzz, a voice to growl with and unbelievable randiness. Growing old happens to me all the time, but growing up is a real high. Like returning home after a crazy LSD trip and looking at a familiar world through reborn eyes. I lie in bed waiting for sleep to come as I question myself faithlessly what I can do about the bitter taste in my mouth and the seeming unfairness of it all. I have the right to remain silent, of course. Whatever, I should either stop being so vague or give up venting completely.
On a hilarious note – a dear friend voting against the statue urges us to “Think recent history: The sight of Saddam’s statue coming down or the Bamyan Buddhas in Afghanistan. Both were desecrated with utmost contempt…You want that to happen to your Emperor too by some unruly miscreants?”.
I doubt that will happen anytime soon, if it ever happens, that is. And should the worry of something being destroyed stand in the way of it being built?
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