Disclaimer: Faking News was forwarded a paper. Unreliable sources said it was a page from a well known liberal’s diary, also known as Adarsh Liberal on Twitter. Faking news does not vouch for its authenticity and requests the readers to judge themselves.
June 21st 2015
Never thought that I would live to see this day.
The day when unwashed, ill-fed, illiterate masses would chant religious invocations, drowning Rajpath in a sea of communal secretion and execute some primitive contortions they call yoga and all this would happen at an official government function!
Delhi used to be liberal and secular, once upon a time.
And Rajpath, careening in its Mughal values of Ganga Jamuni tehzeeb and compassion for the natives, has always been the shining example; an exemplary demonstration of the practice of secularism, since ages.
For almost seven decades, this stretch has lived the Idea of modern India. Never has a communal chant been allowed on this hallowed stretch, never has a half pant been permitted there, never has a Ram called out without the accompanying and balancing Rahim, never has a Hari Prasad Chaurasia performed without the cleansing effects of a Bismillah Khan, never have Eid celebrations been overshadowed by any of the funny native rituals. Never!
And the Iftar parties of the Lutyens zone! The place to touch and feel the nobility and the culture coursing through veins of the gentry, expressed through the selection of taqiyahs, sherwanis and yes, the food.
All would descend on the venue in their multi colored taqiyahs, some taking extra pains to wear it under a Keffiyah, some would wear the toorie adorned Turkish version, some with Jinnah caps and some exhibiting their simplicity and empathy with the common man by wearing a white cotton one.
Never thought such a communal sight would be there at Rajpath
The sherwanis are a different story altogether, waiting to be told. The nizami one, the aligarhi one, the experimental achkan, the hyderabadi version and some designer ones too but all representing the high class of the wearer, the fall and the flow representing the taste, the embroidery representing the rich culture, the colors representing the diversity, all of them perfectly matching their resplendent jootis. Some of us would even laugh good naturedly when our Punjabi guests would pronounce them as jutti.
Ah! The food! The over powering aroma of the biryani, the spicy tang of nihari, the succulent kebabs, the tender chaaps, one could even commit a murder if denied that food.
And then the juicy tit bits would come. Who cracked which deal, who is the scapegoat for latest fiasco, who is getting a promotion, who is negotiating which arms deal, who is angry with whom, who has found a new friend or even who is sleeping with whom, whose wife is cheating, whose bedroom is open for anyone who is available.
And intoxicated by the ambience, people would open their hearts. Free and flirty, they would pour out their emotions, their happiness and contentment, their frustrations and aggravations, disappointment, distress & disillusionment.
But at the end of it, it all looked like a big happy family, celebrating its secular values.
And now? They are wearing half pants, eating dhokla, a tasteless, shapeless, flavourless, weightless food of the uncivilized natives and doing yoga there. Aargh!
Also heard that in their parties (do they still call them parties) they address women as sisters? How primitive?
Never imagined that my Delhi, my secular Delhi, my dear Delhi would one day suffer the brutalities of the communal, regressive, intolerant as it does now.
Where have the olden days gone?
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