Sabotaging Unsuccessfulness'

I am sorry for my absence. It was not pre-mediated. And, I know it made no effect. But by now I am used to people being unmindful about my absence. Anyhow I am here to explain it. I was actually protesting. Our tryst with destiny arrived on the clutches of peaceful protests. Everything that we today possess owes its genesis to some or the other protest. And, I cannot dare to betray history, so I was also on protest and therefore I didn’t write.


I am now pretty sure that they are conspiring against me. And, I am shocked that they can stoop this low. I had this feeling for a long time but I was unsure about it. But the recent happenings proved, beyond any doubt, that they are out with the idea of – Sabotaging Unsuccessfulness.
To be honest, I am a bit thrilled. Come on, the idea of being hounded, though definitely unnerving, somehow makes me feel important. So after being over with the protests, I basked in the glory of being a badgered protester that prolonged this delay.


It all started on a very normal, monotonous day. I can still narrate the details as they are because days like these come few in my calendar. It started with a normal, monotonous morning; I woke up late only to sleep for 10 more minutes. Believe me, those 10 minutes are no less than being in a paradise.
While I was trying to ravish the houris of paradise, an unfamiliar sound of a newspaper being pushed inside my door came. Immediately, I then knew that this was going to be one of those days. For I had not paid my paperwallah for last two months and this generosity was totally unexpected. I subdued my excitement because I feared a knock at my door and except money I had everything to give. But as I said, this was not just another day.


The angels slipped away quietly, as soon as the familiar taste of tobacco coated my tongue. I stretched myself, picked up the newspaper and abused the paperwallah for slipping in the Times of India. Immediately a feeling of guilt overtook me and I asked for forgiveness.
With the name of God (if there is any), I headed for Delhi Times; after all, despite being girlfriendless I still enjoy my right to check out babes and my luck. Both as always were good and bad, in their respective order.
These days I lookout for the by-lines without any good reason and no name ever sound familiar. And then all of a sudden, I saw something that caught my attention. It said – Blogs Blocked. I skimmed through the article, like if someone looking at the list of dead after a major accident, trying to find the name of his/her relative, hoping against hope. But, Blogspot was there; it was there, staring at me.


I instantly took out a white sheet and wrote an application. I had read about Right to Information Act, some days before. ‘The Hindu’ is good on covering things like these. I was now determined to go lengths, even if I have to do an RDB act. After all blogging is one of those few pleasures that are left for me. Next day, I saw the government curtailing the RTI act to suit its vagaries. I was stunned. For due to Mumbai serial blasts, procurement of weapons was not possible and my contacts in Kashmir are no worth than inviting me for a day or two hence no options were left open, except protest. So I decided to protest.


Considering my lean frame, the idea of going on a hunger strike was never approached. Weighing all consequences, I decided to Boycott. Now what could I boycott? I decided that as a protest mark - I will boycott writing on web. So I didn’t blogged.

Now I follow this everywhere. I protest against dirty roads by spitting, urinating on them, and making them dirtier. This way I protest against civic callousness. I protest against lack of security for women by molesting them. I fight with people in bus over seat, don’t buy tickets and this way I protest against transportation department. I buy cigarettes from shops close to school premises and also offer to buy for children/teenagers who come for their nicotine stick. This way I protest against negligence of school authorities.


But somehow or the other, people are not happy with my protests, they think it’s preposterous. And, lately I found myself in trouble during a DTC ticket raid, once while urinating under a fly-over. I am sure they have noticed that I am doing something different and they are tracking my moves. Even now, the person sitting next to me, though watching some porno, one way or the other looks at my screen, trying to gather what I am writing.


I don’t know whether they will be successful because they are trying to sabotage unsuccessfulness.