So, it’s that time of the year again. People have already started flooding their FB, Orkut, GTalk, Buzz and Twitter accounts with senti status messages, nostalgic photos and videos of the years spent in college, how they had the most amazing time of their life, how they are really thankful to their bestest friends in the world, how they will never forget these golden years, how they wished they could live it all over again, blah, Blah te more BLAH. I am kind of nostallergic to all this. The last five years, without doubt, have given me some of my fondest memories but that’s no reason to cry over it getting over.
Rather, I plan to borrow Prof. Dumbledore’s penseive for a while and preserve those golden memories on paper. And perhaps if some beautiful damsel manages to change my orientation and more importantly if I am able to reproduce, my dumb kids will one day sit down and listen to their superDad reciting the story, “How I Screwed My Life (and your Mother)”.
And just as we add common salt to preserve pickles, I might add a little namak-mirch (and maybe a raunchy item-number) here and there, just to keep them interested.
S01E01 The Pilot
Kids, today I am going to tell you the greatest stories of all times, the story about a young man’s indefatigable ardor, perseverance, fervor and ingen….Hey, wait, where are you going?? Ok, whom am I kidding. You are my own kids. You are the least interested in all that crap I mugged up for GRE.
So instead let me tell you about a young connoisseur of free beer and aesthetic porn, a devout BC Sootaaah fan and a rebel who fought against the barbaric tradition of getting up before noon and abolished the inhuman practice of bathing daily.
Kids, as you know your superDad, yeah that’s how we will refer to me in this series, was born under the Taurean sky on a romantic moon-lit night because of another such night a few months ago (As part of my extra-curricular research work, I proved conclusively beyond doubt and reproach that moon is responsible for our exploding population. I convinced the government to send Chandrayaan to that hole-y maternal uncle of ours and give him an ultimatum. Instead the idiots burnt billions and came back with news of water there and plans to populate the moon as well. Jaise ko Taisa) and was hand-picked by destiny to screw his life.
The India I grew up in was like a large boiling cauldron, a dynamic and vibrant mix of different cultures, traditions and ideologies (a perfect recipe for news channels to flourish), trying to etch its identity on the world map (sleeping happily with USSR till it went broke and then moving on to an extra-marital relationship with USA. Our neighbours Pakistan (oh, I must tell you, in our times, the present Eastern States of USA were known as Afghanistan and Pakistan) also slept with USA and we always kept fighting over it), and learning how to unlearn all its ancient wisdom
The recommendations of the Mandal Commission had already come into practice (At that time there was roughly 10% reservation for the SC/ST and backward classes. Yeah, it must sound funny to you, now that you have 10% reservation for the upper classes), the chants of Mandir Wahiiiin Banayenge united a nation to divide itself (yes, the same Mandir which you hear about every five years even now), Madhuri Dixit’s choli ke peechhe kya hai was the height of openness, SRK was a rage among girls and SRT among boys, cable TV had just made its appearance and our mothers spent hours crying over the woes of Lala Lahori Ram and his seven daughters (SEVEN, yes kids….the generation before us took great pride in showing off their vigour and virility. Sex was a sacrosanct ritual done every eleven months and just like most exploration activities, was highly result-oriented).
To be continued…
P.S. The Pilot episode is supposed to gauge the audience’s reaction. So, unless you leave extremely encouraging comments, this might just be the end of the series.