Neo Religion Jiyo

Most religions have a ladder of ascension:

The Hindu has the concept of rebirth until one becomes part of the paramatma.

The Muslim has the stages of going from non believer to finding a place by God's side at judgment day. The Christian has a similar schema.

The remaining religions, I am sure have something similar.

Let me propose a new religion. Wait, first let's name it. Naming is an integral part of setting up religions. The name has to be logical. Let us call this new religion Pissenpush. Why such a strange name, you may ask. See, this new religion is based on pissing and pushing away maximum number of people belonging to other religions. So, the better you are getting someone's temples hot, or greater your skill of pushing peoples' patience over the hill, the higher you get to the God, similarly named, Pissenpushamma.

Takers anybody? Anybody? Come one... don't be shy, come forward, sign up for a pie of bliss. Speaking of pie, this religion does not have a heaven, it has the concept of pies. Higher one gets in its echelon, bigger the pie. Pissenpushamma has an entire pie to itself. The God is asexual, therefore the use of the word, "it". Let's go for the show of hands once more people. Tick tick one tick tick two tick tick three...and we have the first member of our religion!!! Let me see...ah...Mr. Rushdie welcome to our sanctified brother/sister hood. Hello!!! Another member! Mr. Hussain... ah... your pie is much bigger than Mr. Rushdie's. Btw...don't you think "Rushdie" is an intriguing name....he's got the speedway to the entire pie spelt out in his name. A third? Not a single another one... any sisters out there ready to kick up a point? Yes yes...raise your hands a little higher... no no... you are not scratching your head with, you are raising it. There is no shame...Ms. Taslima... there we go... the first trio. Now we have three brand ambassadors .... this is where we employ them in our worldwide recruitment policy. The way it works it the quickest and most powerful method used by any religion as of yet--- yes, we throw them at your face via the television.


See how simple it is to set up a religion. Now coming to the purpose...Errm... to piss you off?

Taking Sides

Karan Thapar spoke. The conversation broke. And Narendra Modi went up in smoke. It was a Houdini act. The leftist folks joked about how Thapar had tingled Modi's chords. And the right wing scoffed at Thapar's puppy dog "please don't screw my interview" expression. I belong to the junta on the left. I am not for marveling present development and forgetting past crimes. And I am not for promoting one sect that is a minority just to boast about our secularism. Lives were lost. Lives that belonged to both Musalman and Hindu faiths. Statistically many more Muslims were killed. But can one look at loss of life statistically? Ask the relatives and friends of those who died (both Hindu and Muslim) does it matter if 1000 or 50 were butchered or burnt? For them that one dead body made all the difference.

It is sad that in times of man made and natural calamity we look towards statistics. Thing is, not everything is cricket. Not everything is entertainment on the television set. And surely not everything is forgettable and material for the census books.

I am not sure what it takes to live with blood on your hands. Shakespeareans would quote Macbeth here, but I'll disagree. Macbeth was weak. Modi and his band are not. Even if they regret they do not show it. Hopefully they will truly feel sorry someday for all the lives that were lost. And hopefully someday we will understand that it does not matter if 50 or 1000 died, but that even one person was killed in the name of God.

Throwing in a bit of sentimentality...What would Bapu, the father of our nation, have to say? Would he too shrug, and scratch his bald head as we do?

The Alley

Of cigarette packet silver rangta foils
And many sugar coated sandesh spoils
This is a tale of our very own Manik’s alley
Flat but picturesque as the terrorized valley
We begin with the stop where buses stop
A temple where mothers pray and hop
And move towards the roadside food stalls
Where fried black oil flows like Niagara falls
Dhrubo has been selling his brick and bracs
Cursing the day he emigrated with two sacks
His smuggled goggles reflect the cinema shop
That pays Rs. 5 homage per seat to many a flop
Dulled eyes look towards the psyche asylum
From the press that presses Daily Bengali Ghum
Which has fueled the innumerable paper boat
Sailing open drains which make mosquitoes gloat
Right outside the display Benares Mithai Bhandar
A quintessential shop for a thriving Bangla sansar
Who build their dreams from their second floor
Which holds five houses all with a green door
But before we move into their detailed specific
Lets walk down to the bazaar quite prolific
There’s wear and tear on all kinds of sale
Fish of all kinds but the humongous whale
The chicken seller is busy with his feathers
Tying bird legs to keep them in tight tethers
Potato and onions heaped on top of mounds
Of course there’s a whole frequency of sounds
The sky above is cloaked with colored sheets
Beneath which one sees million and one feats
This market has one peculiarity to offer
It has shops tailored for the prince to pauper
Above the market are the matchbox homes
On whose porches the women sit with their combs
Children both naked and not conjure adventures like Sinbad
Their devilish shrieks could even turn Lucifer mad
Armed with a plethora of grandmother’s tales and whim
The grandfathers take their progeny on a wild spin
Fathers cozy cocooned in their unperturbed shell
Puff as they dream of where mystic fairies dwell
The older children from class eight and onward
Scheme get rich technique to take them forward
So untamed and peculiar is this world they live
One couldn’t separate chaff no matter how fine the sieve
These eccentricities are essential for Maniktalla
For without them there wouldn’t be a mohulla
Wait! There’s much to be wrote and read
This not being the end of what’s been said
Tales of lives lived within stuffy brick quarters
And individuality of Bengali women for starters
All that is left for us to later diligently extract
Turning common knowledge into poetic fact
Hear ye hear ye I’ve one final thing to say
Hope you all enjoyed this nostalgic word play