Now I’m not here to do a Rohit Shetty, and plagiarize stuff straight off one of Hollywood’s greatest thrillers. Rather, it’s an attempt to illustrate the year gone by in a few hundred words (rather than a few thousand drunken, #instafilter-ed selfies and 15-sec dubsmashes). It’s also a wish-list for the year to come ahead, which the Chinese call “Year of the Monkey”, with AAPtards screaming “hehe lol ya” as PM Modi hops into the belly of yet another jet. While this takes care of the “future” and “past” reference, what about “C-men”? The “C” stands for what Rahul Gandhi pronounces “chota” while sucking on his lollipop and drooling over his new Chutki laptop bag, what Pahlaj Nihalani writes as “c*****a”, and what the nation screams as “Congressiya” every time the parliament gets stalled. It also stands for PM Modi’s international fetish, the Opposition’s “Like I give a f*** about it!” and the army’s damsel-in-distress it saves every time. What the patriot calls “motherland”, and the dictionary, “Country (n)”.
2015 was indeed an interesting year of sorts. Which is quite evident, seeing as India’s fortunes went from a WC semis finish, to a Dilwale. Sure enough, Dilwale was one of the worst things to have happened this year, after Prem Ratan Dhan Payo and its back-bending thumkedaar dubsmashes. And Miley Cyrus’s dyed armpit hair. I’m kidding of course, because well, I’d rather see SRK spread his arms for the 12569th time, than see the rom-com s**t-flick that’s Politicians Aam Aadmi (ki) Le Jayenge. No seriously, I keep coming back to this topic just as Salman Khan does with Prem, because well, isme kick hai, right? It just provides too much content, with the best part being that it doesn’t require a lot of brainstorming. It’s always the same s**t, ain’t it?
2015 also made us ask a lot of questions. The most important of them all, of course, being, “Katappa ne Baahubali ko kyu maara?” On a serious note, 2015 did make us question important fundamentals of life. Such as, “Do you gift a present, or do you present a gift?” It actually made me think over it for a while, which is as great a thing to say about Dilwale, as comparing it to Inception. Of course none of it matches the magnanimity of the question that’s plaguing all non-Sallu-tards – “Who the hell was driving the SUV?” This is also the very question Sundar Pichai would be asking his engineers yet working on the “first” driverless car, which apparently, is some 13 years off schedule now. Ask this question to the B****y (OK, Mr.Pahlaj Nihalani?) High court, and in all probability, the only reply you’d get from the now-retired judge Justice AR Joshi is, “Mein toh Superman, Salman ka fan. Koi leve panga, kar du maa-bhen!”. Which makes sense, considering retired old uncles would have nothing much to do at home than watch nonsense, masala Salman-starrers right?
The one thing that stuck out on the internet and got everyone hooked onto it, besides Kim Kardashian’s derriere (and all the abundance of it), was Dubsmash. Yes, that damned smartphone application that allows users to shoot videos of themselves, and their equally stupid, volunteering friends lip-syncing to famous songs and kick-ass dialogues. Launched during the fag end of 2014, it took the world by storm in the coming months. For a medium that readily gives you your colloquial chaar-din-ki-chandni, this trend has now lasted the internet equivalent of DDLJ. It initially started off with some wannabe 17-ers trying to get away with mouthing killer one-liners from Sallu’s movies. Which is cool, because this is as close as anyone can get to being Salman Khan, without having to run over a few sleepy footpath-ers and lazying black bucks. It also gives teeny-weeny teenagers the euphoria of having “sung” a proper song, because well, braying “thande thande paani se nahana chahiye” in the shower doesn’t count, hai na? It’s all cool, till you forget what Spidey’s late uncle Ben had said way back in 2002 – “With great power, comes great responsibility.” Indeed, dubsmash may have given us the power to delve deep into the realms of creativity, and conjure up some genuinely hilarious works, but at the same time, also given us the responsibility to not go full throttle with it. And end up abusing people’s mind instead of amusing them. A classic example being the millions of Prem Ratan Dhan Payo dubsmashes. And more of them. Yes girls, we all understand that you love Salman, you love his songs, you also love maaroing thumkas, But we are NOT interested in seeing your love and all that you do with it. That’s the job of Sec 377.
What’s also not cool is shooting videos of people falling over each other in an average Churchgate fast local, to the tune of “All we need is somebody to lean ooonnn…”. Or bubbles stirring up on an omelette, to the supersonic part of Eminem’s Rap God, and titling it “Egginem”.
The year also witnessed the unfolding of a number of tragic events. And I won’t kid on this part. All the way from the Charlie Hebdo shooting, to the series of apocalyptic earthquakes that rocked the Himalayan belt adjacent to the areas of North East India and our newly-democratic neighbours Nepal, derailing life and all ways of living it. From the chilling murder of a man in Dadri over suspected consumption of the now-banned meat, to the brazen, blasphemous attacks on Paris by the ever-growing, s**t bunch of b******s that’s ISIS, humanity indeed took a giant leap backward. Which was further propounded by the death of one of India’s most loved, revered and inspiring leaders that was ex-prez, India’s launch pad to space, Dr.APJ Abdul Kalam. (Read carefully, Ms.Anushka Kohli). And while these events might not have been in our control, one cannot help but despair at events like the arrest of a 16-year old Muslim boy for making a clock that TEACHERS mistook for a bomb. Or all the needless, meaningless, and hopeless verbal dueling between the Centre and Opposition in the Lok Sabha, and the ensuing logjam that stalled all progress and wasted crores of taxpayers hard-earned money. And how can one forget all the histrionics by the perpetual back-stabbers Pakistan.
The Chinese called 2015 as the Year Of The Sheep. Which, back home in India, was better known as the Year Of Ban-c**ds. Beef, maggi, pornography, comedy, books, artists, movies, love preferences, “Bombay”… the government spat out bans before you’d even finish reading the words. For a country that prides itself on being tolerant, after not being able to tolerate a simple remark by Mr.Perfectionist Aamir Khan, the government showed it had as much spine as KRK’s IQ. What next, huhh? Ban breathing near mosques perhaps, Mr.Mohan Bhagwat?
While 2015 may have been as melancholic as it seems, (that’s all I’ve portrayed thus far, haven’t I?), 2016 still exudes hope. What with the unusual bonhomie between Modi and Sharif, despite being negated as much by the Pathankot attacks. And the appointment of noted filmmaker Shyam Benegal as head of the committee formed to revamp the Censor Board. Not to forget the smashing debut fights by sadda puttar, star pugilist Vijender Singh on the pro-circuit. The last quarter did see some positive development, if only, of course, you dis-count Dilwale. And Prem Ratan Dhan Payo. And all the “arey ek saal ho gaya…’’ jokes at 00.01 a.m. Did I mention the WhatsApp server that crashed due to this?
As an average 20-something, law-abiding (aai-shappat), taxpaying (Lol kidding), maggi-eating (Yeah. Make a pencil out of all the lead you find in my corpse and donate it.), government abusing (where the **** do I apply for the esteemed sedition charges, a******s?), torrent-downloading (G-o-T-cha Mr.Nihalani!), citizen (yes that photo of a monster on the Aadhar card is actually me) of Incredible, (in)tolerant India, all I wish for in 2016, is to get my share of roti, kapda, makaan. With added toppings of gaadi and bank balance. By mata rani ki kripa, mere paas maa already hai. Can I also get some BOMBAY special MAGGI please, as I watch PORN with my BEEF-eating friend?
I also hope, and I do not kid here, that one day, our parliament will start functioning. Which is effectively a way of saying, Abki Baar No UPA Sarkar. Yes. Though Congress must be applauded for all the noise they’ve managed to make with just 44 thullas, they must also be spanked for using their mouths just because they have one. It’s one thing to oppose policies that it considers anti-public interest, but to scream and shout and let it all out just because the SC denied them relief in a judicial case, is a classic case of “cheating cheating cheating karta hai! Ye hero nahi hai, villain hai!” a la Singham. This judicial-vs-executive powers confusion is also what happens when you have uneducated people at the helm of affairs, just because they belong to the minorities.
Not just politics, here’s hoping that the social community, which our dear loving mothers refer to as the “Internet ke syappe”,also develops some grey matter. And stop trolling masterpieces like Dilwale, just because they can. Not to forget getting over Dubsmash, like they did their 15th girl/boyfriend. Actually, I can make a complete list of all things I hope for in 2016, besides the fulfillment of my nearly decade-old crush on Burj Khalifa, er, sorry, Deepika. So, here it is, in no particular order of priorities –
- The T20 WC. And I was kidding. This does rank first.
- An actual story in a Sallu movie. Long time no see bro.
- Katappa ne Baahubali ko kyu maara?
- The real culprit of the SUV hit-and-run case. Koun hai yeh aadmi!
- PM Modi In India.
- A Vijender Singh knock-out. And another. And another. Maar mere cheete, maar!
- Brains on the internet. In the exams. Actually, everywhere. Error 404 Page Not Found as yet.
- Keeping my girlfriend happy. Oh wait. I don’t have one.
- Change the status of no.8
- Additional 24 hours in a day. No make that 30. The current 24 is too less to to complete my cycle of eat-check out social media-do random s**t-sleep-repeat.
And finally, get more views and likes on my blog. And facebook posts. And instagram. Ok I’m desperate. Ye angootha mujhe dede Thakur!
And after all this, I just wish for a peaceful life. After all, in the wise words of a mahapurush, “Sab moh-maya hai…”
Can I also get some more Maggi please for my beef-eating Bombay-waala LGBT friend?