Emotion

A random post

A random day in a random year. My wall has been littered with advertisements, campaigns, rants, pictures and all kinds of relevant and irrelevant information. Oh sorry, forgot to mention, Facebook ‘wall’. I scrolled up and down aimlessly on my computer screen.

For most of the Malayalees, elections are high on priority. Pictures of streaked index finger, election campaigning, war of words by supporters of all the contesting parties strewn around, rather carelessly. Although an average Malayalee’s political inclination is admirable, a part of the crowd seemed to be slaves of the choices they took once. The choices that they inherited perhaps, or choices partly biased on the glorious past the political party had. Not forgetting there is a section of the audience oblivious to Kerala politics. I’ve often heard people say, “Parties come and go, and at the end of the day, looting happens”. And what happens after voting? What happens to promises every leader gives during the campaign? I wanted to throw this question into the world wide web, probably get bullied by the communists, marxists all the ‘-ists’ and non ‘-ists’.

I scroll further down. #pomonemodi seems to be next big thing. We Malayalees if not anything else are ardent movie lovers. Malayalam film industry is one of the most thought provoking, subtle, realistic version of the Indian cinema. We take pride in gems of Malayalam film industry – Mammootty and Mohanlal. And sprinkling movie dialogs amidst conversations is our regular thing. Indian prime minister recently made a rather glaring yet not-so-intentional comparison. He compared the infant death rate of Somalia and Kerala and went on further to comment that rate in Kerala is worse than that of Somalia. And ouch it did hurt. Rest is history. Since most of the malayalee crowd is tech savy, it was only few minutes or hours before someone came up with #pomonemodi, derived from the famous dialog of Mohanlal “po mone dinesha”.

As I scroll down, the humor turns dark.  A law student gets brutally raped and murdered. I freeze as I go through the gory details. Public raised terrible hue and cry as the murderer was missing for weeks. Arguments, sympathy, false allegations, blame game were flying high. Print media met their weekly quota. News channels got their discussion panels. Social media mourned. The government fell into a bowl of hot soup. And a mother has lost her daughter. Nothing can ever change that.

5 mins later I was pale and queasy. The scrolling, slightly slow and obscured. I wait for the feeling to wash over. Massaging my forehead I scroll further down. Weddings, travel, ‘bundle of joy’, et al.

Life resumed quite normally. My little mind like so many other’s is conditioned to bubble wrap situations and news, to momentarily get affected and then to recover from it.

Sigh.

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