Angst in My Pants
I dont know if this has got anything to do with recent planetary configurations but it appears that our country is living in scambolic times. So, much as I complain frequently and bitterly about how India's English news channel anchors annoy me, I have to applaud them for their sheer doggedness in publicising jaw-dropping scams that have been fairly quietly unearthed by the press. Once the TV-wallahs sink their teeth into a juicy bone they never let go - and I'm beginning to appreciate them more and more for it.
And so we've moved from the embarrassment of filthy toilets and friendly mongrels with muddy paws in the Commonwealth Games (CWG) village to better, more inspiring things, whew. This is one long saga that fortunately had a happily-ever-after ending. Even so, if anyone dares to cheerfully suggest that we must make a bid to host the Olympics in India in the near future, I will promptly gag that person and ruthlessly squash him like a cockroach.
It's been raining furiously in Delhi like never before. Even more astonishing, the Yamuna overflowed.
Whenever politicians are caught doing something wrong, they are rarely arrested. Instead, the government sternly orders a probe, hoping against hope that we (i.e.
Every time the papers and news channels excitedly announce peace talks between India and Pakistan, I shake my head sadly.
It's too hot and muggy to dwell on any subject at length. Which is why I'm merely jotting down my impressions of recent events.
Only half the year is over and I already have enough candidates for my regular annual Hall of Shame awards. Horrifying, isn't it?
Sometime last year, I got weary of reading what intellectuals and look-at-me-I'm-so-goshdarned-brilliant Booker prize winners had to say about Maoists.