Me and my nationhood defined

New Delhi: Pakistan Zindabad. God, did I just say that? That can’t be true, isn’t it? No, it can’t. We are the righteous lot, and while we may draw offence to anyone with fair skin generalizing us as a nation of snake charmers, it is all too well to apply the same laws of generalization on our neighbours. Trust me, it is fine. They deserve it, and isn’t it our grave misfortune to have them as neighbours in the first place. But for them, we would have been right up there. Before I dwell further, let me secure my certificate for nationalism. I am a Hindu, right. I am a nationalist, right. So I am a Hindu nationalist. So I hate Pakistan. Right then, I am a certified, self attested nationalist who will blow your head off dare you sound blasphemous. No paintings for me..they offend me..err my nationhood. No theatre for me, for I like to create my own drama. No books for me, for liberty limits my nationhood. The values and intrinsic ethos of my nation are, sadly, too weak to withstand either willful propaganda or casual canard. Any work of fiction, interpretation and/or intelligence shall erode it. So, no Constitution for me as well.

Now we are talking. I hate Pakistan. Just the way I despise caste system, corruption, harassment of women, child abuse? Not quite. My hatred for Pakistan, and to an extent for Muslims, transcends trivial considerations of setting my house in order. Those things are way out of my ambit. I am a tax-paying honourable citizen of the Union of India, who would ban nudes in art galleries but watch porn in State Assembly. Therein rests my responsibility of nation building. Therein rests my culture. I can certainly go the extra mile and bash anyone who says they are sympathetic to people from the other side of the LoC. So pillorying them is a certificate for nationalism, just as it is a matter of exhilaration to revel in every innocent life lost to drones. They shielded Osama, they deserve it. The idea of justice, hence, is to condemn an entire population to brutal righteousness. Were the Nazis right? You bet. Oh no, the Americans are thieves. They always do it for oil. They even force our movie stars to body search, and boy, remember what they did to our holier than thou diplomat…or was that consulate…? So what if she underpaid her maid and overestimated her privileges? She’s our daughter, and daughters, by definition, are meant to be protected. You can’t see them, befriend them, touch them, love them. Sometimes, you can’t talk to them, for mobile phones may get your harmones going. And dare you ever treat them to Chinese fare...noodles, you must know, encourages rapes. Pre-marital what? Did you mean consensual? What’s consensus by the way? Just the way I own my land, I own my ladki. Didn’t Manu say that many light years ago? Right, so I am a morally correct, socially acceptable, ideologically inclined, cerebrally well endowed Hindu nationalist. From Kashmir to Kanyakumari, I want a Hindu way of life. What’s that by the way? Ummm…leave that...let’s deal with the outsiders first. Who? The ones from China...the one’s who sell momos…right. Forget their nationality, the chinki chicks are hot...and that’s why they are raped. Who asked them to come here? Who asked them to stay late for work? Who asked them to wear skirts? Insane world. You ask for trouble, and it will come in form of men…