I have never forgotten that day, and I don’t let my friend forget it… every time I see a bhadrase… I have to send him a pic, with the caption “Dry Fruit”
Articles by Bal Krishna
Unable to understand his flow of thought, I ask him to explain and he goes, “Haina… think about it… there are many wives who get beaten up black and blue by their husbands on an almost daily basis… the whole village advises the wife to dump that piece of shit, yet they don’t leave their husbands and walk out… every once in a while when the abuse is extreme, the wife determines to leave… but finally stays back… she has her logic, she thinks of her children if they have one, she thinks of the little sense of security she gets in the familiar surroundings and hopes in the hearts of her heart that her abusive husband will change for the better… after extreme violence the husband too calms down for a few days, and tries to appease the wife with a few goodies and some words of love… but, eventually the man turns abusive again and the cycle continues…”
Respected Prime Minister Narendra Damodardas Modi jiu I am writing this letter to share my outrage against You and Your government. But because my parents…
He explains, “There are too many do-gooders these days, majority of them run around like headless chicken, they will collect donations and distribute it where needed. Professional do-gooders on the other hand, use such donation opportunities to bolster up their own image among the downtrodden, and in some cases also their financial prospects…”
fascists all over the world from Stalin to Mussolini to Pol Pot to Jyoti Basu to She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named all have one thing in common, they all believe in the superiority of their race, language, literature, culture, society over everyone else’s and we the simple hill folks definitely don’t belong in a state run by such despots and their supporters… Just like how the world got united to help the Jews establish their own country, our nation India should get together to help us build a state of our own, so that we can thrive and prosper away from these slytherin lot, who never consider others as being equal to them…
A nostalgic poem on youthful days spent in Darjeeling when days are passed doing nothing but walking up and down the roads around Chowrasta.
The mayhem went unabated for over 2 hours. Many people who were perhaps just sitting at their house were brutally beaten up. Later we found out that there was this 18 year old daju, who was chopping meat in his house, he had a khukuri in his hands when the CRP entered. Thankfully the CRP for some reason did not shoot him, but he got arrested on the charges of “possession of weapons” and was so brutally beaten that I still shudder when I think about it.
If what’s written above, makes sense to you, then your youth was awesome… to those who are wondering what that title is all about, read on… maybe somewhere in this piece, you may find something you can relate to, and if you do relate… please share… spread some nostalgic cheer.
Ma’ms gives me a hearty laugh, and says, “bhanich, timro buddhi ra hamro buddhu-jiwi haru dekhda ta Mamata le jitekai ramro jasto lagcha… kukur lai ghiu na pacheko jasto, hamro buddhu-jiwi haru lai ramro kura kahile pachdaina…”
Darjeeling has always been a Mecca of music, and those who were part of the “in” crowd back in the day had no problems in distinguishing between the Beatles and the Rolling Stones, or between Pink Floyd and Black Sabbath. But not everyone was a part of this “in” crowd, most like me were “out.”