Value education in a Hotel room


We live in exciting times. Tired of dingy slums, bullet ridden corpses at railway stations and naxalite filled forests the police have now taken to raiding hotel rooms and slapping around adults having consensual sex.

So cool. I mean think about it. In this day and age when you cannot even visit your relatives without smsing and calling first – these chaps are barging into private hotel rooms without knocking. Talk about swagger. Their social skills are at an all time high.

And such sacrifice. I mean it makes my heart bleed. They put aside chain snatchers, rapists and terrorists to dictate moral science to a few rich kids. Now if that isn’t the best possible use of the Tax payers money then what is?

Pubic protection is sooooo much more important than public protection. Protect two consenting adults from making the ultimate and gravest mistake of all – making love to each other. That is why rapists in our country would never be stupid enough to try something like that in a hotel room. They do it on buses and factories and sometimes even in police stations. They must have topped the class in the moral science lesson. And law. Because they know the right way to interpret Section 110 (Indecent behaviour in public) which those educated people in the private hotel room did not.

Also this kind of policing is safer for the police. I mean the poor chaps are equipped with a stick. A stick! The terrorists come in with combat gear and automatic weapons. Our friends have a stick. I mean what good is a stick except to shove it somewhere unmentionable? So better to police the people who don’t have weapons. And who are naked. A stick actually is a lethal weapon here. So logical. Why doesn’t the media see that?

And so what if a few of those couples who were caught will use a little spare lube to grease the palms of the value educators to let the cases drop ( because eventually thats what everything is about – money and harassment and a bit of voyeurism) – it is still a good day’s work. Teaching values while being obnoxious yourself – Radhe Maa would be so proud. I can see her tearing up right now.

And taking a cue from the police is the common ticket seller at public gardens and zoos. At the local zoo I bought 2 tickets of a few rupees each for myself and my partner – thought we would jog old memories by strolling around the gardens of our childhood. At the gate the man asks us to shell out a couple of hundred more. When asked why he answers matter of factly – you both aren’t married ( he deciphered that from the absence of the sindoor and mangalsutra). As my partner started to explain our marital status – I cut the conversation short by saying – Show me where it says so? Where are the ticket prices for married/unmarried people? Flustered, he let us go but not before shooting us dirty looks. Make a little extra cash off couples dying to have a little privacy in a nation of a billion people. And if not – harass the hell out of them.

Way to go immoral p..sorry moral police. Yayyy…

I am dying to peek a look at what is on their agenda.

I am so excited. What’s next? Barging into bedrooms and dictating what are acceptable positions and what are not? Banning any sex for purposes other than procreation?

There is very little time. I need to redecorate the bedroom. Put in a couple of extra chairs and a poster that says – “Welcome”.  I mean they may walk in at any time, isn’t it? And the least we can do is be a little warm and friendly.

If the visits become regular perhaps I will lay out a tray of Hors d’oeuvres for my Khaki clad guests. After all they will need soul food while they watch the show.


Construction workers, Big buildings and One smile.

Was at a construction site today and the usual parade of women carrying mud was passing me when amid the adult women there was this little boy( I assume) walking past carrying a little plate with mud on his head. He was imitating his mother accurately right down to the walk and the swaying of the hips. 
She walked past me six times during the period that I stood there and every time the little boy was walking alongside her with his little load. There was a big satisfied smile on his face that spoke nothing of odd hours, skipped meals or bad pay packages. It spoke nothing of aching limbs, persecuting heat or unwashed clothes.
What it spoke of was – unbridled enthusiasm and heart warming optimism.
Like this was the most respected, best profession in the world. To match his mother step for step and carry a little bit of her load. 
Surprisingly seeing a shabbily dressed kid doing a minor degree of manual labor (just for fun)- I felt none of the cliched emotions that you normally do. 
I didn’t feel pity at all. 
I didn’t think of child labor and feel all self righteous. 
I didn’t feel like grabbing him and putting him into a snobbish school with a pompous uniform and a schoolbag heavier than him.
Instead, I felt something akin to envy. 
I offered him a polo mint. In return I was rewarded with a smile that could have put the sun to shame. He looked content. Blissful. He took the mint, popped it in his mouth and was on his way to complete his chore. 
Only a child can know what it feels like to have the capability to love a plate full of mud and only an adult can know what it feels like to lose.