Sunday, 1 February 2015

Inter-galactic Dreams

Circa 5000 BC (7,000 years ago) – Wing Commander Gopal Biogas was sitting in the cockpit of his interplanetary aircraft. He is taking a bunch of wealthy Indians to a spa resort in Venus to get their fat asses burnt. He despised the lot – sitting there, enjoying their somarasams and samosas, whereas he, the working man, was kept on a diet of milk of buffalo, cow and sheep! Oh, how much he hated that Rishi Bhardwaj, the man who drew up this diet.

The aircraft was a huge jumbo plane – 60ft by 200ft – and had 40 engines (Interplanetary travel), which ran on fart. There was an elaborate system in place to collect human as well as bovine fart, which was then used as aviation and other fuel. The aircraft ran on a self-sustainable system, wherein the passengers are fed samosas and chana masala to generate flatulence, which is then channelled through holes in the seat to the fuel cells. Belching was not allowed. Today’s trip will take them on a sightseeing trip over Europe, where the natives were still living in the Stone Age as hunter-gatherers, before proceeding to Venus.
Fast forward to A.D. 2014 – Captain Anand Bodas, a descendant of Gopal, is flying a contraption built by the descendants of the Stone Age hunter-gatherers of Europe. It ran on fossil fuels. He wondered when people will come to their senses and go back to fart. He flew over the nation and found that close to 600 million pooped outside (Open air defecation), wasting so much energy that could have fuelled interplanetary travel as his ancestors once did. How did this happen to this great civilization?

One day we’re flying on fart; the next day (well, technically not the next day) we can’t build a decent potty and are farting and pooping in the open. One day, our plastic surgeons are transplanting elephant heads on to anthropomorphic bodies; the next day we’re cultivating superbugs in our hospital beds. One day we are observing aircraft images in “rooparkanrahasya”, or the ancient radar; the next day we are observing kidappara rahasyam (bedroom secrets) in WhatsApp, again, something developed by those European Neanderthals. He, Captain Bodas, was not going to stand by idly and watch this civilization go down the drain. He decided to go to the Indian Science Congress and get them pseudo-sickular scientists to build real planes!  Planes that can fly to Venus. Planes that can kick ass!

P.S. Some people might say that this is all delusional, because god created the earth only 6,000 years ago. Well, he has decided to bring them back home and let them see the light.

Sunday, 28 December 2014

Year-end Ruminations

Sometimes, even though you don’t want to, you end up thinking of the year that went by. So, here are some random thoughts that crossed my mind, sitting in snowed-out north-eastern Japan, -15°C outside, WhatsApping with friends around the world; something which I wasn’t planning on six months ago. I have been trying, often without success, to keep technology at bay. A phoneless cord? Maybe. A smartphone? No way. That used to be my policy.
Things, however, don’t go as you planned, especially with kids around, and I ended up with a smartphone, knowing well that it was a slippery slope. One good thing that came out of it, though, was getting back in touch with long-lost friends over the last couple of months.
For Trivandrum, it was again a continuation of the disappointments, neglect, maltreatment, etc. from the ruling class. The Mayoress, the government and its umpteen ministers, including one representing the city, all have conspired to crush the soul of this city. The Mayoress, by failing to find a solution to the city’s garbage issue, into its fourth year now. The government, by actively scuttling any development that matters to come here. And to rub salt in the wound, they have built a monument to ineptitude that stands like a middle finger being wagged at the citizens' faces. That is the “newly inaugurated” central bus station at Thampanoor, which resembles Fallujah after an US bombing raid. The contempt is palpable.
Which makes one wonder whether a win for the BJP guy in the last parliament elections would have made a difference. Now, that is another slippery slope. Already there are signs that I may have to read the Gita every day (instead of, say, the Kamasutra) if Madame Sushma has her way and makes it the national scripture. Or, worse still, I may have to reconvert (Ghar Wapsi!) to Hinduism in the near future. Where would I start? Perhaps as an untouchable and work my way up the caste ladder, if that is possible in one lifetime. I don’t want to go through all those karma, reincarnation cycle till moksha. Reminds me of the movie dialogue “What does a snail have to do to reincarnate? Leave the perfect trail of slime?”
Despite trying their best, the ruling class (who have suckled at the teats of this city, living here, sending their children to schools here, drinking the water from one of the oldest water supply system in the country, pooping into a sewerage system, which again is one of the oldest such systems in the country) has not managed to kill the city’s spirit...... yet. I believe, it is still one of the best places to live in this country.
Speaking of poop - I am now in Japan, where pooping is a pleasure. Here is a rehash from a piece I wrote almost a decade ago. The system was new at that time, but I won’t be surprised if the Japanese have come out with a system that measures the amount of doo-doo you make and flushes the appropriate amount of water. It is all eco-friendly nowadays, you see. Save water.
Some 74% of houses in Japan now has high-tech toilets. In comparison, 53% households in India do it in eco-friendly, natural settings, upholding the spirit of being one with nature (nice positive spin, eh?). The potty I have been using here in Japan allows me to set the seat temperature (important in winter) as well as the water pressure, position and temperature. You can set it for automatic flush, so that it flushes when you raise your washed, rinsed and cleansed bum off the toilet seat. Women can also use it as a bidet.
I sometimes dream of having one such potty in my house in Trivandrum, but then good sense prevails as my brain reminds me of how fried nuts would look like when the voltage shoots to 4000v unexpectedly in a lightning storm. Have to safeguard the family jewels!
Finally uploaded the pictures of potty control panels! Hope you all have an un-constipated New Year.

Above - the panel I use

Panel at my in-laws place (Added later to a regular potty)

The one at a hotel I stayed recently (attached to the toilet seat).

Well, this blog also seems to have run its course, looking at the recent output. Wish you all an interesting 2015 and beyond.

Sunday, 26 October 2014

Had Enough of Monorail, Now Suck on Some Light Rail

Three years ago, people in Trivandrum (and Calicut) were thrown a bone by the Chief Dream Merchant (CdM), which we all lapped up (see Monorail for Tvm, 2011). The Railway God had appeared to him (maybe in his dream – him being the dream merchant – or maybe in person; nobody knows) and said a monorail is what these people need.

Lo and behold, there were colorful images of monorails in all newspapers warming the cockles and other unmentionable parts of Trivandrumites. We were glad that the Lord upgraded us from MEMU trains and buses to this modern contraption. Soon, the coffers of DMRC, the temple trust looking after the Lord’s interests, began filling up with consultancy offerings. DPRs (not related to DPR Korea) were prepared, alignments were marked, and historical buildings were threatened – all in paper. People were given controlled doses of euphoria-generating news featuring unauthorized copies of monorail pictures from the web, which kept them baying for more.

But this God is a playful one. He likes to toy with his devotees. And so it came to pass after three years – no, not the monorail, but the reappearance of the Lord. He suddenly revealed himself again, appearing through the monorail woodwork, to the CdM, and said, “#$%! monorail. I’ll upgrade them to a light metro rail, whatever that is”. The CdM said, “Thy wish is my command. I’ll immediately convey it to the suckers. They’ll be grateful to you for not smiting them”. Both of them sneaked a peek at the consultancy coffer and laughed maniacally (ref: Consultancy fees to DMRC).

The people were happy that their prayers and offerings have “paid off”, just like with the other gods. In the meantime, unbeknownst to man, the Lord has different plans, which he revealed to the CdM (and to me). Three years from now he plans to upgrade the plan to a full-fledged metro. And in 2020, it’ll be upgraded to a subterranean maglev bullet train, and in 2023 he will smite us all because a few of us will sin by not going orgasmic about the newest plan. The Lord moves in mysterious tracks! So, beware! You might get run over!

Monday, 13 October 2014

In praise of Modi and Shashi Tharoor

In praise of Modi and Shashi Tharoor!? Now, that is one sentence I thought I would never write, not even in my wildest dreams. And believe me, I do have some real wild dreams. I don’t buy into the jingoistic propaganda of Modi and his machinery, and I am more or less disillusioned by Tharoor’s performance as our MP. So, why the praise?
In Modi’s case, it is for initiating the dialogue on the issue of filth and for launching the Clean India campaign (though we’ll have to wait and see how it pans out). And in Tharoor’s case, it is for agreeing to cooperate with Modi in that endeavour and praising him for it.
That praise, however, did not go down well with the local Congress honchos, who began baying for his blood, and got some consolation when he was removed from the post of party spokesman. These guys are following the tried and trusted practice of the political groupings in Kerala of not letting anything good by the opposing team to become a success. We, the people of Trivandrum, are the most glaring example of this. The garbage crisis here is now three-years old. The state government and the city corporation are blaming each other for the stalemate and we are getting royally screwed.
Well, “Inside every silver lining, there is a dark cloud!”
I have now hit upon this theory that these guys have a much bigger plan. Take a look at the link below:
We’re No.1 in dengue deaths and dengue cases reported for the three-year period from May 2011 to May 2014. In fact, we account for more than half of the reported cases. The man you see smiling in the left corner of the picture, the health minister, no less, represents our city. Look at the pride in his face! We also have an equally smug-faced Mayoress, who cooperated in this initiative by not collecting the garbage for the three-year period.
This, I think, is part of a secret plan to bring the All India Institute of Medical Sciences (AIIMS), for which a big tug-of-war is going on between different cities, to Trivandrum. “See, more than half of the sick people in this state are from here, so we deserve it”. Plus, we need a few more cancer centres because a whole bunch of people are expected to get cancer pretty soon as we are encouraging them to burn their plastic and other stuff wherever possible.
I am waiting with bated breath. The question though is whether I will have enough breath to bate!! Because, the Marxists (drumroll) have decided to “clean the city in a scientific manner” on Nov 1, 2014.
Is the Mayoress involved in this? I don’t think I will bate my breath for that. Not worth it.
The fact is, Modi has kicked these people in the nuts and they’re gasping for breath as well as grasping at straws, without realizing that in Modi’s Gujarat, which he ruled for more than a decade, 43% of households still don’t have potties. Not much of an achievement, is it?
So, it is highly likely that all this will end up as the usual farcical photo-ops for dudes with brooms, whereas the need of the hour is to reroute rivers through our cities like Hercules did to clean up the Augean stables. If Modi succeeds in that, I will also readily chant Namo*, Namo*.
*Regardless of what he achieves, the asterisk is always going to be there against his name.

Friday, 11 April 2014

Quarterly Musings?

Well, 2014 is into its second quarter and here I am sitting in a place that is so far removed from Trivandrum, the election heat as well as the real heat there seems surreal. It is -1°C and snowing outside where I am now. The year started off crazily for me, when I was woken up at 6 am on January 1st by a distress call from Kanyakumari. I was sleeping at my friend’s place, where I had gone to welcome in the New Year, saw the city explode into colours across a 180° arc at midnight from his apartment balcony, drank and played cards till the wee hours. The call was from a group of Japanese college kids, who had gone to celebrate the New Year at the land’s end of India. “We have been robbed”, the girl said. And I felt relieved. Nobody drowned! So far, so good. She said the police just came and went and did nothing.
So, there I was, in Kanyakumari at 9 am, Jan 1, 2014. The police station is less than 100m from the hotel (Shivas something) where these kids stayed, but it might as well have been in another planet. They were robbed of couple of Macbooks, 2 smartphones and a watch, probably by the hotel staff who were watching them getting drunk and sleeping without locking their door. The kids called the police, who came after some time and asked a few questions to the night clerk and left, and refused to register any complaint. The kids were dumbstruck! Why in the world would policemen refuse to file a complaint and investigate a theft? Well, welcome to India, I said.
I took the two guys who lost the stuff and went to the police station. Only acceptable language is Tamil! The police and the hotel guys all seemed to be in this racket together. I somehow managed to impress upon the SI and ASI the need to file a complaint and give a copy each to the two kids, which they gave by noon and we left the place. They lost stuff, but stuff can be replaced, and I was surprised at the speed at which the kids recovered and decided to enjoy their rest of the vacation in Kerala. (As I was leaving, I also saw these same police guys totally ignore a man from Meghalaya, who too was robbed, and who couldn’t speak Tamil. In hindsight, I should have helped him out too, but I was hurrying to get the kids out of that place, partially driven by the shame I felt as an Indian, and partially by hunger.)
So, that was my New Year. A reality check of how things work, rather don’t work, in our country.
I was not planning to write about the election, nor anything else, for that matter, but since I started writing I might as well throw my two cents in. Last time, I persuaded at least one person to vote for Mr Tharoor. Here was a man of international stature, famed author, journalist (I used to enjoy his articles in the International Herald Tribune) and above all, a man with experience living in international cities. The only negative I could think of was his involvement with the mother of all inefficient, ineffective bureaucracies, the UN! Just kidding.
The expectations were quite high. He did perform well compared to all his immediate predecessors. But, was that enough is the question. I, personally was expecting a Rolls Royce, but think we got a Honda Accord. To be fair, the Honda Accord is an excellent upgrade, especially given the Ambassador and Standard Herald models we had before that. Still, I must say I was a bit disappointed. And, though not his fault, the fact that the State government didn’t care about our city hurt too.
So, how is the field this time? The positives, stated above, are still valid for Mr Tharoor. The controversy (controversies?) surrounding his personal life, though, is a bummer.
The BJP candidate could spring a surprise, as they have succeeded in creating lot of hype, similar to some states and cities. It could also end up as usual – all fart and no $hit.
The only thing everybody know about the Left candidate is that nobody knows him. It is a tragedy, and a pointer to the sad state of affairs in our State, that the Left is resorting to caste-based politics and pandering to mullahs, bishops and living gods for survival. He might win, if that particular group vote en-bloc for him, as it is wont to do.
A message to AAP – get rid of those ridiculous caps. You started off well by ridding yourself of that Anna Hazare clown. Now get rid of those caps. And, get some people who can speak the lingo, i.e. Malayalam, like the common man to be your spokespersons.
All said and done, the buttons have been pressed, the machines have been packed and we have a month to find out who will eventually disappoint us.
I am, however, not so sure of the voting machines. Did we have a transparent process for introducing them? Was the technology verified independently? Some did malfunction here and there. Could these be tampered with?
Most of us would like to think it is all fool-proof, but this is India and anything can happen.
Here’s a story. Long back, in the 1980s, if you were a Mallu in Bangalore trying to take the Island Express back home urgently and needed a reservation, you went to the railway canteen on the 1st floor of Majestic station and checked out Mr N, a waiter there, and he would give you a ticket, at least an RAC seat, for a small extra. Then, at the turn of the decade, going into the nineties, Indian Railways began computerizing their reservation system. Everybody thought Mr N would go out of business. He didn’t. He just moved his base to Krishnarajapuram, a small station near Bangalore, and continued with his merry ways. You had to travel that extra mile to see him. That was all. 
P.S. I would have voted for only one person (perhaps two) this time. Her name is Sheeba, and she is a candidate from Alathur. She, it seems, asked her staff not to put up any flex boards as part of her campaign. I hope she wins. Just go to Vellayambalam and take a look at those huge faces sneering down from ugly flex boards on what could have been one of the most beautiful roundabouts in Trivandrum.

Wednesday, 25 December 2013

G’bye Annus Stupidus, Allo Annus Ridiculus

It’s festive season again. The air is filled with the pungent smell of burning rubber, plastic and waste.   People are singing paeans to the new messiah - “His Royal Highness, Benevolent, Right Reverend Excellent Chief Minister and Royal Disburser of Alms to the Poor, the Crippled, the Lame and the Blind, and the Royal Shower-er of Riches on Rich People”.
People on the streets are also singing paeans to the Royal Opposition for royally protesting the disbursing and showering while wearing crowns and holding sceptres, symbols which they despise.
People are singing paeans to their MP tha Roor for clearing the environment regarding the deepwater port (the thought behind it is what matters; i.e. the afterthought, after an airport gets all the clearances in the blink of an eye).
They are also singing paeans to the Mayor-ess for triggering a renewed interest in physics, especially the study of inertia.
People are so much into singing paeans, they don’t realize the pains in their nether regions caused by the actions (no, I don’t want to spell it out) of the above royalty.
2013 has been an “annus stupidus” by any standards, but as G. Carlin says, “Inside every silver lining there is a dark cloud”.
And that dark cloud is the New and Improved Kerala Model of Development (NIKMOD), pioneered by the new messiah who is travelling at warp speed to far away destinations. The people are yet to catch up with him. Well, how can they? They are singing paeans (with their heads up their *****)!  
NIKMOD envisions airports at every nook and corner of the State, like bus stands. And this would usher in all-round development. New roads will be built, shopping malls and high-rise condominiums will come up, and international schools will sprout. It would also bring in high-end hospitals with magic ventilators that create illusions of life in the dead to console the relatives and relieve them of the corrupting influence of money.  (I didn’t make this up. This is something I read in the Inter-webby about the benefits of Aranmula airport, though, I admit, he didn’t specify the ventilator part).
And the good tidings don’t end there. We will have bullet trains, monorails, ports, seaplanes, regular planes, convention centres, 5-star hotels, and not to forget helipads at places where we can’t build airports (no $hit!). Ooh! I can’t wait for 2014 –which I hope would be an annus ridiculus- to roll in.
A Happy New Year to Y’all!
P.S. A few days ago, the statue of a former CM was unveiled in Trivandrum. At the time, the government said it will allot land to a foundation in his name. Voila! 48 hours later, the foundation has 37 cents of land in Palayam. This land, mind you, is not in Palayam, Calicut, but in Palayam, Trivandrum - a city with no land for any development, if you believe the current “His Royal Highness, Benevolent, Right Reverend Excellent Chief Minister and Royal Disburser of Alms to the Poor, the Crippled, the Lame and the Blind, and the Royal Shower-er of Riches on Rich People”.  And that too for a man whose loyalties lay elsewhere and who had no love lost for Trivandrum as such.

Saturday, 26 October 2013

Capital Punishment

Being the capital, Trivandrum attracts all kinds of people who want to air their grievances in front of the Secretariat here, the de-facto symbol of power. So, for example, if you are a group of divinely ordained people like the Brahmins who used to wield some power; but are currently facing threats from the unwashed, uncouth, un-everything nincompoops (a guy called Parur Rakesh from a lower caste was appointed as a priest recently) who are taking away the one primary job of yours – i.e. having personal conversations with imaginary beings; then you could pack your $#it and come to Trivandrum and protest. You could build a sacred fire in front of the Secretariat and invoke the gods to wreak destruction on the sacrilegious punks trying to cut in on your action. It should be a piece of cake, since you have the secret hotline to said being.
Anyway, what I am trying to say is that this is the beauty of India’s democracy. You are free to protest. Another beauty of our so-called democracy is that the state is free to send policemen to disrobe you and crush your family jewels in front of TV cameras broadcasting live to mallu living rooms, as the Marxists recently discovered to their chagrin. This is part of the government’s Bollicks Crushing Programme (BCP) modelled after the Chief Minister’s Mass Contact Programme (MCP, jana sambarkka paripadi). We’re in line for another UN recognition pretty soon. Our MP, Sasi Tha ‘Roor’ should pull some strings in the UN through his social networks to make this a reality. I dream of a day when I would be able to see huge billboards of our CM holding spherical objects in his hands, similar to the ones that showed him holding a bunch of MCP petitions. Talk of emasculating the opposition! Way to go!
(He, our CM, is back with his MCP. When the CM has to go around addressing issues that should ideally be solved by a clerk, then that means something is seriously wrong with the government machinery. Perhaps he could get rid of many of these people and save the exchequer some money.)
Well, apart from the above-mentioned political hullabaloo, Trivandrum also hosts processions and parades by a plethora of religious groupings. Especially, some processions promoted by the Hindu right appear to be part of their strategy to expand their base in Kerala. There was one in which cute little kids dressed as Krishna were forced to walk on the hot city streets. Curiously, none of the kids (pictures) I saw were dark as Krishna. They were all fair to very fair complexioned, not even wheatish. Whatever happened to kaakkakarumbans and kaarvarnans? Another was the Ganapati procession. Suddenly, we are like Bombay! Big-time immersion of Ganpati Bappa in the Arabian Sea. I don’t know whether they were singing “Ganpati bappa morya pudhchya varshi lavkar ya” (Lord Ganesha, come again soon next year) during the procession, but recently when I went to clean-up Sankhumugham beach with a group of volunteers, there were still some Styrofoam, plastic and plaster-of-Paris remains of the lord on the beach, and I almost wanted to go "pudhchya varshi yeu naka". Where are the eco-warriors when we need them?     
Some good (?) things that happened in the recent past – Nilgiri’s started selling Yakult probiotics drinks, which my kids used to love back in Japan. They also have Lindt and other expensive Swiss chocolates (have resisted the temptation so far), tortillas and even miso soups on their shelves. Persimmons are back in season at my favourite vegetable vendor “Spring” in Nanthancode. There are a couple of new restaurants, which I have to try out. And, a new online lending library ( has started functioning, for which I promptly signed up today after I read the news in The Hindu. Interesting times ahead.
PS. Couple of days ago I saw a news item where a guy from Kochi was complaining there was a Trivandrum lobby working against them. It seems Tha 'Roor' had commented about some stupid cricket game getting washed out, which didn’t go down well with the Cochin dudes and Cricket Association honchos. What is with this 'Roor' guy and cricket? Anyway, I was interested in this powerful Trivandrum lobby. So, I checked out the KCA website and lo and behold, what do I find? Of all the matches given to KCA, barring a few junior games in Perinthalmanna and Thalaserry, everything else was allotted to – no, not Trivandrum, but Kochi, which included the washed out Duleep Trophy matches, Ranji matches, ODIs, everything! Some powerful Trivandrum lobby this is!  Or, it might just be that this Trivandrum lobby strived to get all the matches for Kochi so that they could sit back and enjoy the super soppers in action. Wicked, or what? I, for one, think the super soppers are more fun. I hope more and more such matches are washed out, whether in Trivandrum or Kochi, or Ranchi or Cuttack so that these match-fixing, lazy, untalented bozos do not get a chance to show off their mediocrity.
One thing we all should remember – when things like these happen, it means there is money involved and "they" would like to keep it as exclusive as possible, lest their share of the pie become smaller. "You" are there just to hold the flags, throw the stones and get kicked in the nuts. They walk all the way to the bank. OK, not walk, but go in a car. Land will be given away for free to moneybags, coal fields will be given to corporations for peanuts, and frequencies will be allocated for a pittance to telecom companies. In the meantime, you’ll be given polluted air to breathe, poisoned water to drink and intermittent power to watch the idiot box. Be thankful.    

Tuesday, 23 July 2013

I Kinda Have a Dream

Next month is the 50th anniversary of Martin Luther King’s ‘I have a dream’ speech (March on Washington, August 1963). To think that it’s been only about 50 years since black people got equal rights in that “shining city on the hill”, “the beacon of democracy”, “the indispensable nation” is mind-boggling. But that is another story. Here today is my own ‘I kinda have a dream’ inspired by the great MLK speech.  
I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as just another stupid day in the history of our State.
Some years ago, some great Mallus, whose statues might one day cast shadows on garbage piles, signed some worthless proclamations. This came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of mallus who had been searing garbage piles here and there.
But many years later, the Mallu still is not free to do what he pleases with his garbage, which he has to slyly dispose off in distant neighbourhoods in the middle of the night. Many years later, many Mallus live on lonely islands of opulence in the midst of vast oceans of waste. Many years later, the Mallu is still languishing in all corners of the world and finds himself an exile in his own land, only able to come here once in a while to throw tissue papers around.
In a sense many come to the State's capital to take a dump. When the architects of our city, if there were any, drew up the plans, they were thinking of the hordes of people who will come here with their flags and plastic bottles and Styrofoam food packets and their bodily orifices for excretion. So our architects ensured that all men, some women too, would be guaranteed the unalienable right to choke this city to death in addition to the rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.
It is obvious today that the State has given the people a bad cheque; a cheque which has come back marked "insufficient funds" to give them the freedom to throw stuff. But we refuse to believe that the bank of government inefficiency is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity for corruption in this State.
It would be fatal for the State to overlook the urgency of the moment. This stinking monsoon of the Mallu’s legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating season of dengue and Chikungunya. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst by drinking from the tap of municipal water supply.
I am not unmindful that some of you have come here to throw a few stones. Some of you have come fresh from the Middle East or Singapore where your quest for freedom to poop by the street side left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive.
Go back to Kasaragod, go back to Alappuzha, go back to Kochi, go back to Idukki, go back to Kannur, go back to the slums and ghettos of all our cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be replicated in your cities too. Let us not wallow in the valley of despair.
I say to you today, my friends, so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in wet Mallu dreams involving sultry sirens silhouetted against solar flares.
I have a dream that one day this State will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident: that some, if not most, men are idiots."
I have a dream that one day on the green hills of Ponmudi the sons of rich guys will get sons of power shovel (JCB) drivers to raze down the hills and make it motta (bald).
I have a dream that one day even Attapadi, a place apparently overflowing with rice and ragi given by our State, will have the freedom to throw the plastic sacks in which the rice and ragi come there.
I have a dream that my children will one day live in a State where they will not be judged by the colour of the plastic packet they throw on the street but by the contents of that packet – Lay’s, Pringles, Kurkure, etc.
I have a dream today.
I have a dream that one day, right here in the capital, the vicious caste-ists, their lips dripping with the words of tolerance and love only for their own kind will throw filth at each other; and one day right here, little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little wheatish-complexioned boys and girls as well as fair and lovely boys and girls, as sisters and brothers to go to the Secretariat and the Corporation Office and dump their diapers there.
                                 (Diapers and other garbage that some lovely parent throws near my house every few days)
I have a dream today.
I have a dream that one day every valley shall be filled with Big Bazaar bags, every hill and mountain shall be made low to build monuments to greed, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the garbage dumps shall be revealed, and all the fish and flesh and organic waste shall be in those dumps too.
This is our hope. This is the faith that I go back with.
And if we are to become a super-duper State, this must become true. So let garbage flow from the prodigious hilltops of the Sahyadri. Let garbage flow from the mighty peak of Anamudi. Let garbage flow from Mookunnimala of Ananthapuri!
Let garbage flow into the Ashtamudi Lake of Kollam!
Let garbage flow under the kothumbu vallams of Alappuzha!
But not only that; let garbage flow from the high ranges of Kottayam!
Let garbage flow from Sabarimala of Pathanamthitta!
Let garbage flow from every hill and molehill of God’s Own Country. From every mountainside, let garbage flow.
And when this happens, when we allow garbage to flow, when we let garbage flow from every village and every hamlet, from every town and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all men, Nairs and Ezhavas, Protestants and Catholics, Shia Muslims and Sunni Muslims, and all other caste, religious permutations and combinations and even atheists will be able to join hands and take the next flight out of the country singing, "Free at last! free at last! we are free at last!" “But we will come back once in a while to throw tissue papers!”