We don’t live in a country. We live in a personification of hypocrisy.
Where people shitting on the railway tracks is okay, but people hugging on the railway station is looked down upon.
Where a supposedly “secular” country has majority states divided by language and religion.
Where people lead such sorry lives that they have nothing better to do than fight over religion, which, ironically, had been established to prevent the same.
Where people bite back when criticised instead of introspecting and improving themselves.
Where education is a business, and marks are given more importance than knowledge. Where dumb people are toppers, and the smart ones fumble around at the bottom.
Where people standing up to eve teasers are murdered and their justice takes 5 years to arrive, while “innocent” people who run over people sleeping on sidewalks are let off the hook in a month.
Where a cricketer earns more than a policeman. Where the police reach later than pizza.
Where a 2-minute kissing scene from a foreign movie is edited out, and a freakshow movie full of dirty humour, soft porn, and vulgar imagery gets released without cuts.
Where five people sharing a wife, a blue-skinned man cheating at war, and an “honourable” man having multiple sex partners are put on a pedestal and literally worshipped.
Where killing a cow and eating it is illegal, but killing many other animals and eating them isn’t. Where eating onions, potatoes, garlic, and basically anything that grows under the earth is considered to be sin.
Where politicians worry more about what happens behind hotel doors than what happens in the country.
Where things that don’t matter are taken seriously and things that matter go to hell.
Where people care more about controlling how others live than making their own miserable lives better.
Where one person cannot make a difference, because he’ll be silenced either by money stuffed in his pockets, or a knife stuffed in his guts.
Where love is subject to conditions. Where love is looked down upon. Where love is measured by looks, colour, wealth, and family background. Where what the ‘log’ say matters more than your own child’s happiness.
Where it is okay to be an emotionless robot with a good job, rather than following your dreams.
Where people (like me) who have a strong opinion against anything in the country are labelled anti-national by the people cheating their own country and filling their pockets with tax money paid by citizens.
Where rapists, murderers, thieves, corrupt people, biased people, pedophiles are allowed in temples but not women on their period.
Where I’m not even sure whether to get angry at or take pity on this country.
Where everyone is equal, but some people are more equal than others.
Living in India is like being in an abusive relationship. You want to cherish the good parts, but the bad parts are so much in abundance, that the good parts look like alms.
You go through all the shit, hoping it’ll get better one day, but each day, your love reduces a little bit. I’m not surprised that almost every other kid wants to leave the country as soon as they can. And then they miss India only because “Yahan pe sab chalta hai.”
Only because you can make huge savings on traffic fines, get any job done if you quote the right amount, and basically be scott free if you’re rich. All in this country, where money is everything, and even family doesn’t matter.
You can piss in public, but you can’t kiss in public. Gudd bhi hai gobar bhi hai.
(Hoping, and expecting, to get a lot of hate for this, because “Hum nahi sudhrenge.” But to all those who are going to throw abuses at me, I say, “Yahan pe sab chalta hai.”)