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The story of Klinku

September 18, 2011 2 comments

Warning: Not meant for animal lovers and sensitive people. If you still have the balls/guts/nuts/etc., then read on…

It was a dry summer afternoon. Klinku was wandering along the deserted Koripol Street.

President’s Rule had been imposed on the state – the Chief Minister had been bludgeoned by members of the opposition party – the Vikali Jan-Shokpal  Dal. Angry mobs had already devastated major portion of public property and had burnt down the public offices of the Shokpal Dal in and around the Koripol Naka.

Klinku was lost. Disowned by his family in chaos that engulfed the state of Kokachal Pradesh. He was alone, dirty, hungry but not petrified. He continued his search for the one thing that mattered the most – something to satisfy his gurgling tummy. Anything, just about anything would make his day – a piece of roti, bread or even a half empty packet of Parle-G biscuits – his all time favourite. But illa, it was not his lucky day.

Karam Gogoi, an adivasi warrior of the Samer tribe – one of the last few tribes in north-eastern jungles of Bharat, living under the constant fear of extinction, had a dilemma of his own. It had been almost a month since his family had a proper adivasi meal. The curfew had made things even worse. It was difficult to procure the essential components of their daily meal so they had to do with drinking water from the nearby jharna and eating bland rice.

The sun had already set upon Kokachal Pradesh. The dry heat was making Klinku dizzy, and the hunger and weakness had squeezed out all his energy. He fell asleep  near the bench behind the Municipal hospital with a weird thought troubling him – was it going to be his last and final sleep? He was unsure.

Karam was desperate. He could not bear the thought of his children dying of hunger and decided to venture out into the civilian lands – something that was forbidden in his community. He had heard of stories of their men getting caught, tortured and executed by members of the civil society. But the feeling of hope surpassed all other feelings that he carried with him.

The enclosure was cosy and comfortable; lying on a hay bale with sun rays filtering through the thatched roof. Is this heaven? Klinku was perplexed. He could smell something – the aroma of basmati rice was unmistakable – yes this was indeed heaven, he concluded. He had never imagined death could have been so easy and heaven would be such a wonderful place. He shed all his inhibitions and gorged on the rice. So what if it was partially cooked – it was good enough for his ailing tummy. After finishing around two – three kilos of rice Klinku was back. He had never felt that way in years and could not believe that death could be so rewarding. He went back to sleep with a euphoric feeling of afterlife.

Karam had never felt better in his life. He was the first among the Samers to have successfully made it to the civilian area and back. And he had successfully laid his hands on what he wanted  – his prize was right now sleeping cosily in the beetle leaf thatched dog hut. His two beautiful wives Jali and Kali were preparing the fire for cooking while he was preparing the bamboo stick he had personally selected from the jungle for that day. The children were admiring the cute little thing asleep inside the dog hut, totally ignorant of its inevitable fate. They say – ignorance is bliss. So be it.

Ingredients and accessories (from Jali Gogoi’s notes):

  1. Water soaked Rice (preferably basmati) – Around 3 kgs
  2. Coconut milk – half a litre
  3. Vikrandi oil – 2 tbsp
  4. Bamboo stick coated with a thin layer of vikrandi oil
  5. An extremely hungry and weak dojjy (preferably from NE)
  6. Jungle fire for  cooking

Preparation:

  • Mix the coconut milk and vikrandi oil to prepare an emulsion and keep aside
  • Cook the rice for 5 mins only on medum heat. Take it off the flame and add the emulsion prepared earlier.
  • Feed the hungry dojjy with the rice until it falls asleep. Then tie its limbs to the opposite ends of the bamboo (with due respect). Hang the bamboo horizontally over the flame. Ensure that there is no direct flame on the dojjy‘s body.
  • Take it down after 25-30 mins. Make a logitudinal incision on the ventral side of the dojjy to cut open the belly to reveal the fully cooked rice – Adivasi style.
  • Serve hot.

Moral: Heaven might be better than death, but death is definitely better than hell on earth!!

*All names changed to protect the identities of the creatures (including the dog)

**What one may like as food, others may shunn… Basically in life, one must have funn.

PS: I love dogs as well as chicken. But I eat only one of them.

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Yehuda Bhumi 2011 – Lessons Learnt

September 16, 2011 Leave a comment

Seems as if I have logged in after almost a decade. Came across this offline blog I had written during my not so recent visit to Israel; here it goes…

It’s my first visit to the land that embodies the survivor spirit – Yisrael or Israel as it is officially known as. My apartment is located in Tel Aviv and every day (barring the Sabbath days), I travel to my office in Sderot which is small town located quite close to the Gaza strip. So many things immediately grab your attention:

  • The infrastructure here is simply audacious. Well organized towns/cities located at distant points on the huge desert that Israel is, connected together by highways/roadways that are decorated by monstrous power transmission towers.
  • People respect the traffic rules. The zebra crossing and the traffic signals mean something to the people here (we seem to have forgotten those things back in nursery itself).
  • The term “work life balance” seems to have been coined in this country. People are cool here. Reaching office at 9, starting actual work at 11 and leaving before 6:30 is the norm. This attitude unfortunately becomes a major disadvantage for them as their jobs get outsourced to us Asians for whom “work=life”. But they don’t seem to care.

Makes you wonder – why?

The answer is clear – the people here love their country as well as themselves and are proud of their roots. Is this possible in India? I guess not. We Indians have something that we are so proud of, but which I think is unfortunately pulling down on our legs. It’s called SECULARISM. And something we aren’t so proud of – CORRUPTION.

And that is the reason why …

  • We focus on fighting for Telanganas rather than developing our Hindustan.
  • We put our efforts in shooing off some Bhaiyyas and Bhabhis back to where they are ‘mass produced’.
  • We make sure that the ‘upcoming’ bridge in Chembur ‘comes up’ at a snail’s pace, making even the existing traffic conditions worse.
  • We are always in a hurry to get somewhere and strongly believe that all roads are indeed our pop’s property.

The need of the hour for every Indian is to cultivate that love for the nation and our fellow brethren (and their ‘sistren’) and foster the development spirit of the nation and lead it towards the ‘Pinnacle of Perfection’ (that’s the marketing phrase of a Std. 12 coaching institute popular in southern-central Mumbai 🙂 ).

See this thing below?

No, it’s not an Indian orange. It’s an Israeli sweet lime. And I swear it was sweeter than the sweetest Indian sweet lime.

This has got more to do with technology than patriotism? Think again.

Shalom,

CS

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