Can I Ask A Kvestin?

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WARNING COMMENCES

The following post contains some very juvenile humour. And a very important kvestin.

WARNING COMPLETE


It’s slightly bugging, okay, very bugging that I’ve not written anything in the last month or so. I wanted to write about the Demonetisation Policy but thought that I was far too illiterate to talk about it. The same goes for things like the Agusta Westland case. So, I thought that I’d read up a little of my own work. One common complaint seems to be the language. People really don’t like me using words like…..well, let’s just say that certain words aren’t appreciated. I’m not someone who’ll change his style of writing based on opinions but I too thought that sometimes it becomes a little too much. So here’s the thing: I’ll replace ‘words’ with ‘food’. I mean, what the fudge? Let me just talk about the burgers.

Then, as I scrolled like a moronic dimwit through my Facebook homepage, I saw loads and loads of political memes and stuff. Statuses by stand-up comics I follow. Statuses by him, her, and him again and her too because EQUALITY!! And of course, pictures of Labrador and Golden Retriever puppies because they are awesome and adorable (I dare you, I double dare you to try and argue that)! One very funny thing I came across was that a very crass Hindi word had been used by someone I know on a picture of the Chief Minister of Bongo (or was it Congo? Congo’s not an Indian province/state, you moronic dimwit). This person has told me many a time to restrain myself in terms of language on the Internet. So that had me in splits. Apart from the hypocrisy of it, it also reminded me that we have extreme opinions of our leaders (code for lunatics).

Another question came to mind and it is actually taken verbatim from something my father (aka Papa [not Pappa]) says I used to say a lot as a child: Can I ask a kvestin (question. Gimme a break. I must’ve been a toddler)?

I ask this because it doesn’t seem that you can. Suddenly, there seems to a rise in a fascist mindset in what has been called the world’s greatest democracy (except by Americans. And perhaps they are the world’s greatest democracy ‘cause they elected a guy like Donald Trump). Suddenly, we don’t welcome questions. We can’t ask them. And if you dare to ask one, you become one of the following: Bhakt, Congi, Commie, AAPtard, Sickular, Libtard, Porkistani (nice play on ‘pork’ there). Can’t I ask a question and still be the two words I’m going to call myself for the third time in this piece: a moronic dimwit? Am I not allowed to question the actions of the Government of India without my character being assassinated and my family being massacred (at least figuratively, if not literally) by the sycophants of Team Lotus? Or can I not talk about things like the 2G scam, the CWG scam, the Coal scam, that forty-six-year-old unadorable baby and not be threatened by a giant Hand? Can I not joke about a party which has a red flag with a hammer and a sickle and has lost all national significance a long time ago? Or can I not make a joke about cough syrup without being asked to become a slave of Team Lotus by those Gandhi topi-wearing dudes who would like to carry brooms everywhere? Can I not watch a film starring the country’s biggest movie star, a fantastic actor, another fantastic actor and a Pakistani lady without my nationalism and patriotism being questioned by a party which has one seat in the Legislative Assembly of Maharashtra? There was once a king. A warrior. A great man. A man who showed Aurangzeb his might. Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj would be appalled by the sheer amount of money that the Government of Maharashtra wish to sanction for a statue of his. A people’s ruler like the Chhatrapati getting a statue worth Rs 3, 600 crores? And the CM says no amount of money is too much to commemorate the spirit of the man. In that case, Mr CM, I request you and your entire cabinet to kindly use your own money and not that of the people. But hey, if I ask ‘Why’, I’ll probably be lynched by lunatics who’ll promptly plant some beef and pornographic material around my corpse and justify their crime. Can I not ask why veterans of the Services and the CAPF have to literally beg for a proper pension, which is their right, while the netas, the babus, and the khakis get more and more money, leaving even serving officers of the Services in a humiliated state? Questioning the actions of the Prime Minister of India can end up with me being called so many things by a bunch of zealots that you’d think I called the entire lot ‘mutton fudgers’ at least half-a-dozen times each.

WHY? WHY CAN I NOT ASK THE REASON WHY THE NEW NOTES HAVE SUCH BAD COLOURS? WHY CAN I NOT ASK THE REASONS BEHIND THE POOR IMPLEMENTATION OF A CERTAIN FINANCE-BASED POLICY RECENTLY IMPLEMENTED BY THE CENTRE? WHY IS IT THAT I SHOULD GO TO PAKISTAN EVERY FUDGING TIME I ASK A QUESTION? WHO ARE YOU, YOU AND YOU TO ASK ME TO PROVE MY NATIONALISM AND PATRIOTISM (Show me the parchi from the President that allows you to showcase your vigilantism)? DO I HAVE TO SUPPORT A PARTY TO HAVE AN OPINION ON POLICIES AND POLITICS? DO I HAVE TO BE LEFT WING OR RIGHT WING OR CENTRED OR CONFUSED? WHAT IS WRONG IN WANTING TO ASK A QUESTION? WE LIVE IN A COUNTRY WHOSE VERY CONSTITUTION ITSELF TELLS US TO ASK QUESTIONS. AFTER ALL, AS A DEMOCRACY, THE GOVERNMENT IS ONE BY THE PEOPLE, FOR THE PEOPLE, AND OF THE PEOPLE. OR HAS THAT CHANGED?

To all of you who are cursing me in your heads for having an opinion and a question, I have a message: Mind your own goddarn business. I don’t care who you are, where you’re from and what you did. As a citizen of India, I have as much right to ask a question of Mr Modi as you do of chanting his name. So kindly fudge off.

Lastly, there’s one thing all those of us who are sane of mind should be willing to do, and that is to say (à la Varun of many years ago): Can I ask a kvestin?

THANK YOU! GOOD NIGHT! AND ERMMM…..JAI HIND (See-I’m a patriot!)

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