I Am The Maitreya

Shit! Day after day, I keep posting some shit here. It says there is something wrong with me. May be I need to get a hobby, get-a-life kind of hobbies. The problem is, I know what I don’t like, but I don’t know what I like. I know it sounds funny, but I mean it. We go by living our lives without knowing our passion, pitiful isn’t it?

So, I’ve decided, if everything goes fine by the mid of 2008 I’ll go to South America, probably Peru or Chile. I’ve always wanted to climb Machu Picchu. Let’s keep my fingers crossed.

Am I that rich to make such a trip? Hell no! It’s one life, so why not?

I’ve always wanted to visit South America since the day I read Tintin’s adventures in and around South America (if you remember that Belgian brat). Even in those comics then, I could see the similarities with the indigenous Latin people and myself. On retrospect that may be because how I failed to relate with that fucking-pale-white-European-brat the Tintin, his dog was cooler. And I hated that drunken English bastard–Caption Heddock (I guess that’s how you spell his name). Come to think of it, all heroes or super-heroes are white people. Superman–Clark Kent, Spiderman–Peter Parker, Batman–Bruce Wayne,  Hulk–Bruce Banner AND the Savior the Jesus.

What the fuck Phantom an alter ego of Christopher Walker was doing in the African jungle, saving black asses from the black and brown thugs? Why was Tarzan a white boy, again somewhere in the African jungle? Ok! Ok! Fine they are white, but what throws me off is: why are their spouses always white–Jane and Diana? Both live in the deepest forest of Africa, they should be fucking a gorilla or some tribes women. In that respect Mogli does fine, bastard was brown that’s why he doesn’t get a white female.

But, I guess it’s not a calculated scheme of evil white people, I think it just so happened. May be it’s the dynamics of evolution of story telling. It’s always about who gets to tell their sides of stories. All sides don’t not have the means and recourses to get their stories to all nooks and crannies, but it doesn’t mean that they don’t have stories to tell. Muna Madan is as melodramatic as Romeo and Juliette.

I’ve read Indian super-heroes (Naj Raj, Makadi Man, Faulad Singh etc. etc.) beat the sit out of everybody else besides North Indians, Dharmender’s son beats the shit out of whole Pakistan in some movie. Chinese shaolins and Japanese samurais always manage to kick ass of rest of the world. Arsonist Hanuman burned the whole of Sri-Lanka. We never got to hear the Lankan side of the story, how they feel about it.

Probably in their story, it would go something like this: they saw the strange ape like creature which came flying from the north, on a closer look it was a monkey with a red under-ware. Very amused, they captured it, decided to feast on him on the auspicious occasion of wedding of their King—Ravana, who had found a true love in the Princess from North (somewhere in the foothills of Himalaya), who had fled her first husband she was forced to marry just because the guy could break a bow. She wasn’t impressed at all with his bow breaking prowess. She wanted more in a man. She always dreamt of a palace full of coconut trees in the front yard in the shores of Indian Ocean, and a dark hubby with a thick thick moustache. Very girl has a dream. You see.

Anyway, during the feast, while the money with the red under-ware was being roasted on the grill occasionally brushed with coconut oil, and in drunken stupor, revelry and chaos of the city, fright broke out over the monkey roast, monkey got loose. Scared monkey with fire on its tail ran amok setting fire to the whole city. ‘Damn the monkey from the North,’ said the Lankans. Since monkey was a sign of a bad omen, they decided to drive it out of the island. Since monkey was badly injured, it couldn’t fly anymore, since monkeys don’t swim; only way out of the island was to make a bridge across the ocean. Thus the bridge was constructed. Loving Lankans, handed the monkey with a complied list of dos and don’ts to keep it out of troubles, better known as ‘Hanuman Chalise.’ Princess got tired of eating coconut curry, she finally returned to her first husband. Monkey had bad mouthed about her, her chastity was the concern of whole of Ram-Rajya, particulary the ‘dhobee,’ gees, Purosotam Ram (purus + uttam= excellent man) had doubts too, so she went inside the ground. Since then it’s been a fate of South Asian women. Ravana got pissed, really really pissed, he told his people, ‘thou shall avange the death of my beloved.’ True to their words, they killed Rajiv Gandhi. Finally the fued is settled.

So, you see, just because you haven’t heard the stories form the other side, it doesn’t mean that yours is TRUE. Like every coin has two sides, every monkey has two stories.