Mr. Yogi and the Gold Medal

"Yeyyyyyyy" yelled Yogi. For a moment, he forgot that he was in a crowded bus stop and that the rest of passengers were looking at him like some piece of vermin. Ignoring them, Yogi asked the details of the gold medal that Bindra had won. As long as Yogi remembered, India hardly won any medals in Olympics save a bronze or silver courtesy some fighting sportsman. Coming to think of it, Yogi was surprised that he felt happy and content.

One gold.

One billion people and one gold.

Even countries like Ethiopia won a gold medal consistently in Olympics. And we were winning a gold medal after 28 years. Countries which roughly have the population of Chennai or Delhi win atleast 2 gold medals. And we? One gold. This year, we sent about 99 people to Olympics out of which 57 were athletes and 42 were their family members. The Chinese, who are numbered just a little above us in terms of population, sent 600+ athletes.

What were we Indians good at? There should be something that should separate us from the rest of the world. What… we code well? Or as in a technical term, we copy and paste well? We are the worlds back end office. Ok...now that sounded vulgar. But maybe it was the truth. Touche that Yogi who was one among the herd should think of that.

At that time a petite young girl passed by in a scooty. She was wearing a T Shirt which read "Your Boyfriend is staring" which made Yogi laugh. Maybe the girl had got the T Shirt at the wrong place. This was India. Her T Shirt should have read "Your Boyfriend, Brother, Uncle, Father, Grandfather, Dead Great Grand father are staring. Hey...even your mom is staring!!!!".

To the rest of the world, we may be a nerdy and tech savvy country, but inside we still live in rock ages. A girl wearing T-shirt and jeans is till been ogled at in India. And if she is driving any vehicle, you can multiply the count of eyes following her by 2. The amazing thing is that some pervert men ogle at any half (possibly quarter) decent looking girl as if they just dropped Venus to invade them in mars.

The less said about the treatment meted out on dark skinned girls the better. They are looked as social outcasts and sinners. The worst part is that they are humiliated by their own family members. Every man looks at a woman as an object of affection. And yeah....one of Yogi's friend mentioned that girls liked to be noticed. BUT, NOT OGLED.

The way some Indian men stare at unmentionable places for too long, she said, was that even if she didn't look at them, she could feel them gazing. The day Yogi heard that statement, he stopped staring at women like that. At least metro folks were better because they studied in co-ed schools and worked with women and so maintained certain level of decorum. Imagine the folks who might have lived in environment where mingling with women was taught as something taboo?

But then you can't blame the guys. For such an awareness to exist as in western countries and metros, you should propagate sex education. And as long as we have the Senas, Dals, Kazhagams and Leagues 'protecting' our 'culture', this was never ever possible. Who remembers that it was one of our own who wrote the sex odyssey Kamasutra? And how did we rise to become the second populous country on earth? Did we all Indians drop from tree-tops?

Maybe that was what many of our folks were good at. Staring and ogling. Maybe we should have an Ogling championship or medal in Olympics. And more...we can have a 50m, 100m, 400m and relay in Ogling. Yogi was sure that those specially talented Indian men would win Gold, Silver and Bronze hands down in each category. No competition. Hurray!!!! Multiple gold medals for us at last.

As Yogi waited for the bus, he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was his cousin sister who was on the way to college. Yogi noticed that the bearded guy standing next to him was ogling at his sister. Yogi kept looking at him, but he didn’t seem to turn around in shame or embarrassment. Yogi had noticed by practice that the average time taken to make such a pervert Indian male stop look at a women was 25-30 seconds.

Yogi coughed. That was the time the guy realized that Yogi was even standing near her. He turned his head to other side. That's when Yogi noticed the guy next to the bearded fella was staring at her. Yogi coughed again.

He didn't seem to turn away. Now...that was a potential gold winner.

P.S: Since this has been a mokkai serious post, you can cool yourself with this amazing Tex Avery cartoon. Enjoy!!!!!

Mr. Yogi and the 2 rupee coin

Mr. Yogi squirmed. He was standing behind 19 people in the queue to buy train ticket from Pallavaram to Saidapet. The railway station was as usual crowded and the heat wave just made it worse.

The railway track was littered with cups, plates, frooti bottles, left overs and smelled good enough to puke your stomach out. Some characters who were anxious enough to get to the office stuck their neck out to watch the train arrive, spit on the tracks. Mr. Yogi who was once a co-offender for the same offense, now felt like throwing them down on the tracks. Some things never change.

The train arrived and it was crowded as usual. It was so crowded that one guy was checking an sms in his mobile and the person next to him was reading it along with him. It was then that Yogi realized that he was the inhabitant of the second most populous country on the face of the earth. It seemed as if one person was breathing air released from other person. Inspite of the space available inside the compartment, romeos preferred to hang outside to lure the juliets and do acrobatics which one day was sure to land them in hospital beds (or worse mortuary wards) rather than their beloved's hearts.

Almost 75% of people inside the train either seemed frustrated, impatient, bored or angry with their life with the exception of the lovers at one end of the train, the 3 year old kid seated on his mother's lap enjoying the company of the mute bear and the bum seated near the exit who either knew nothing or knew everything. Most of them seemed like a mountain waiting to erupt their emotions out. Mr. Yogi just prayed that he better be not the pin to prick anyone and get their lava of anger all over himself.

And then it happened. He entered singing some song in some language with a harmonium around his neck followed by her. He was wearing an old worn out white shirt with a tattered lungi with a towel around his shoulder. She was about 6-7 years old wearing an yellow tattered frock and was sweating profusely with lot of innocence and pain in her little eyes. As he sung, she went around the compartment with her little arms asking for help. The gentleman at the end of the compartment who nodded in the beginning then began fiddling his pocket and put something in her hands.

Her little hands were full of 1 and 2 rupee coins. Mr. Yogi wanted to get up from his seat and grab that singing bastard's collar and ask him why was she begging for alms when she should have been in the school singing "twinkle twinkle little stars". She came near him and just raised her arms without speaking a word. Mr. Yogi searched in his shirt pocket and found a 2 rupee coin which he thrust in her little arms. How he wished he had all the money of the filthy rich, corrupt politicians, extravagant socialites, overpaid cricketers and could help these kids restore their world with innocence instead of such wickedness and pain?

His heart yearned to take her out in the next station, feed her fully, admit her in some destitute home and arrange for her eduction. Alas it was the stuff that was reserved for cinema heroes to perform in the movies. Yogi was just a common man on a day's work who could just dream of reforming the society but could do only as little as 10% of it in ways that he knew. He felt numb and helpless that he did not have the power to reform anything and everything. Everyone of us on earth have to bear our burden of sorrows and that was the way the world worked.

As the train stopped he realzied that the train had reached guindy. The man and the girl walked out of his compartment and rushed to the next compartment. Just then Mr Yogi's mobile confirmed that it was alive and it was just another stupid Airtel promotional message asking him to check his future for a few bucks. Just when Mr. Yogi thrust his mobile back into his pocket, his hand stumbled on a coin. It was a 2 rupee coin. Mr. Yogi could still hear the man singing in the alien language and could imagine the girl innocently begging for either her food or her father's liquor or maybe both.

Mr. Yogi looked at the 2 rupee coin. Maybe it was destined for some other kid in some other place for some other time......