It's a Mad, Mad World

[this article has been published here]

There are times in life when everything you do seems pointless. You reach for something, only to find that it has eluded your grasp, you say something and nobody understands you. The world in general looks topsy-turvy.

And then you pick yourself up off the floor, try to stand steadily - and if you're lucky, get helped/carried/dragged home so that you can sleep off the after-effects of 20 straight tequila shots.

However, sometimes the world doesn't seem to make sense even when there is an acceptable level of blood in your alcohol system. It still feels as if you're viewing the world through a tequila haze.

Sample this:

Mohammed Azharuddin (that great patriot), has now found the ideal platform for himself. He can now be in one of the few places in this country where his crimes seem like those of a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar, in comparison to the deeds of his soon to be colleagues.

"Former Indian captain Mohammed Azharuddin has begun a new innings. He has joined the Congress and is likely to contest from Hyderabad in the forthcoming Lok Sabha polls.

Azhar says, 'I have always been a fan of the Congress party, the Gandhis." [Link]

If the prospect of a man who has been pronounced guilty of selling his country while doing a job that others would kill for is the cake, then the icing is this interview, where Azhar says "I am good at making speeches."

Having grown up watching Azhar being far more eloquent with the bat than he was with his tongue, especially when he muttered 'webattedbadlybowledbadlyandfieldedbadly' after every Indian defeat (a number of which he had probably himself engineered), I thought that the interviewer did a commendable job at not laughing in his face.

Those who have seen Azhar the batsman, speak of his wonderful timing, elastic wrists and sublime strokeplay.

Those who have been hurt by Azhar the bookie, speak of his wonderful timing, elastic wrists and sublime strokeplay and where they can all be shoved.

Meanwhile, that master of self-effacement - Anil Kapoor - has said that Slumdog Millionaire is like his story. [Link]

The critics will point to the fact that losing your mother in riots, growing up as an orphan, being almost blinded and having to steal to survive while growing up, are as far removed from Mr. Kapoor’s childhood – which he spent attending Our Lady of Perpetual Succour High School in Chembur (one of the more upscale schools of the time) – as modesty is from his persona.

But what the heck – every Slumdog has his day.

And if the day is long in coming, some people go looking for it – by er… climbing a tree:

“Tense moments prevailed at Saidapet sub-jail here when two inmates, accused in robbery cases, climbed a tree, in protest against not being produced in court for a long time.” [Link]

You would think that this kind of monkeying around would be appropriate only for certain members of the Australian cricket team who shall remain nameless. Apparently not.

One can’t really blame the prisoners though – maybe they were inspired by the story of cops having to refund bribes with interest.

“Eleven years ago, when SHO Gulshan Rai and assistant sub-inspector Rao Ramkumar winked at murder accused Mukesh Kumar, asking the terrified man to shell out Rs 30,000 to escape torture at the police station, they hardly knew they would one day have to actually return to the victim not just the principal amount but add interest of a healthy 9%.” [Link]

Personally, I’m rooting for the day when Monday mornings are declared illegal. That would tie in nicely with the tequila haze.