Thank You for Smoking

Now that all the Diwali brouhaha is over and everybody is back to work, life seems normal again: no empty seats staring at you, no more crackers to distract you and no more blinding lights adorning the roads as if there was a Punjabi baraat dancing on the streets for a week! We are again back to being miserable: ALL of us, and not just me. Good, I.LIKE.EQUALITY.

If that isn’t misery enough, Bal Thackeray decided to breathe his last, very conveniently mind you, on a Saturday evening, after the regular Mumbaiite has finished his half-day at work, had his lunch and boarded the Virar local. Such is the consideration of one of the scariest most respected figures of Maharasthra politics. Of course the fact that life in Mumbai came to a halt for two days with the common man forced to mourn mourning with theatres, restaurants, coffee shops or even supermarkets closing down was a small price to pay. But the spirit of the Mumbaikar cannot be so easily dampened. You thought we would sit at home just because the Mumbai police ‘advised’ us to ‘not venture out unless it’s an emergency’? You thought we would silently watch Oh My God on Colours just because Jab Tak Hain Jaan and Sons of Sardaar were out of contention? NO, we are Mumbaikars, we can instinctively amuse ourselves under ANY circumstances, we decided to throng Shivaji Park to participate in the funeral procession of the icon who has held the state ransom for inane reasons over the years.

But hey, what do I know? I am just the cynical girl, who was stuck at home for two days, without milk or vegetables, feeding on dal and bread like a prisoner, devouring a 650-page political satire on Emergency.

I am a common man, I am allowed my share of disillusionment at the ‘system’, so pardon me, if I can’t bring myself to grieve over the death of a ‘leader’…