…was supposed to be a restful day with a sprinkling of work. The evening was supposed to follow the classic movie-dinner pattern. The intended film? Slumdog Millionaire. I am far too depressed to watch a Bombay-based film. Instead, I’m hooked to NDTV, following the words of those reporters who were once familiar names. Over the past few years, my coverage of Indian affairs has been borderline pathetic. A cursory reading of glamourous headlines passed off for in-depth knowledge. Not any more. Events in my country take precedence over the formation of the President-Elect’s Cabinet. It’s shameful that it took a tragedy to jolt me out of my stupour.
The last time I was in Bombay proper was 12 years ago, which was also when I saw the Taj for the very first time, I think. Even so, it’s extremely poignant to watch smoke and flames mercilessly billowing out of the arched windows. To think that this was the result of an invasion from the sea. Congratulations, “Deccan Mujahideen”, or wherever the fuck you came from. I don’t care if you were shat out of the depths of hell or originated in Pakistan or in India. Your preferred technique has epitomised the medieval nature of your “conquest”. I shall have more to say to you in the near future.
I hope they all suffer from ED when they meet their virgins.
I hope they all burn in hell.
I hope India nukes Pakistan.
1. I agree. I also hope they catch every possible VD along with the ED.
2. I agree, although the virgins should be spared.
3. I don’t agree. The entire country obviously doesn’t conspire against India.