Till a fortnight ago, my life was as directionless and meaningless as Rahul Gandhi's speeches. I was appalled by the lack of purpose in my life and couldn't stop berating myself for not doing enough to stop the polar caps from melting or Trump from getting elected. Not anymore. My life feels like a Jan Dhan account suddenly flush from someone else's desperation. And I have Modiji to thank for this sudden turn of events.
We wanted change and Modiji gave it to us, in denominations of 50s and 100s.
I am ashamed to admit, when he dropped the D-bomb on us, it took me an inordinately long time to acknowledge his genius in smoking out black money. Alas, my heart was busy feeling wretched for the unfair treatment being meted out to black money that chose to stay in the country instead of flying off to Honduras, the Cayman Islands or Panama to become an NRBM (non-resident black money). I cried buckets when I read reports about wads of patriotic notes that had said no to whitening being abandoned near dustbins and drowned in the river. This is how we treat our girl children and not ghar ki Lakshmi, dammit!
With ₹500 and ₹1000 notes declared invalid, I was feeling like a penniless pauper for no fault of my own. With demonetisation, Modiji first rendered us cashless and then helpless with not enough new notes to replace the old lot. It felt like we were being dragged back to our bachhe dins when we had to last an entire month on a ridiculously meagre sum because our parents thought it would teach us the value of money!
Just last week when I told the beggars at the red-light, "Paise nahin hai, baba," they nodded in sympathy. A few kind souls even offered to lend me a few notes from their booty!
I cried, yet again.
Before I could turn into Nirupa Roy with my endless rona-dhona, one fine morning at the fitness centre I heard a dear friend (whose name I have yet to ask) whine about the terrible losses her family had to bear because of demonetisation. I am telling you, my tears dried up immediately and my heart started doing Bhangra!
Nothing eases your pain faster than knowing scores of others are going through a plight worse than yours.
As part of the honest 1% that pays its taxes diligently and yet manages to feel foolish because so many choose to evade taxes and get away with it, it felt good to see them get hammered and feel the same pain. And it's all thanks to Modiji flexing his muscles to make India's money white again and punish the rich.
We wanted change and he gave it to us, in denominations of 50s and 100s.
These days when I stand in a queue for hours to withdraw cash that may or may not exist, my chest expands to 56 inches. When was the last time everyone, irrespective of their riches, background, ideology, caste and baap connections got screwed in a queue?
By God, if this is not acchhe din, then what is?
Modiji is even better than Surf Excel, cleaning India's tainted money in just one wash. The least I can do is become his trusted stain remover.
ATMs with serpentine queues make me shiver with ecstasy. I have lost count of the number of times I have screamed STOP, RIGHT NOW and jumped off the car just to experience the joy of standing in a queue as long as the Great Wall of China. It has become an addiction now. This weekend I woke up early just so that I could stand in a queue outside my bank. It was like a real-life enactment of, "Kindly wait, your call is important to us." By the time my turn came to feel important, Mrs Sharma had returned from an inter-galactic voyage, three-year-old Chintu had turned into an irritating teen and the bank had run out of cash.
But did it bother me? Naah! Nothing gives me more satisfaction than running around town looking for currency, clutching an ATM card and a cheque book. I know when I stand for hours in a line, I am doing it for a better India where the elected listen to you and not question your integrity and love for the country when you dare question them.
My life has finally found its purpose!
Now I am so stoked about standing in queues, I am even willing to do it on behalf of others. After I finish writing this post, I will immediately enrol myself at www.bookmychotu.com. I am looking forward to stewing in queues on behalf of unpatriotic Indians unwilling to make the supreme sacrifice for their motherland. This is how I'm getting to remove corruption, terrorism and helping make black money the new untouchables. Modiji is even better than Surf Excel, cleaning India's tainted money in just one wash. The least I can do is become his trusted stain remover.
I will enrol myself at www.bookmychotu.com. I am looking forward to stewing in queues on behalf of unpatriotic Indians unwilling to make the supreme sacrifice...
A few small establishments breathing their last, vegetables rotting at mandis, farmers not having money to buy seeds and daily wagers starving because of the cash crunch... these are but a small price to pay. Shame on those who had the temerity to die of heatstroke, heart-attack or some flimsy excuse while standing in long queues outside banks, contradicting claims made on social media that everything's been smooth sailing. With great transformational change, comes greater pain. On the contrary, demonetisation has been saving lives. With no money to buy cartridges for revolvers, drunk mamas and chachas are unable to accidently shoot guests at weddings. Delhiites have stopped buying cigarettes and prefer breathing deeply to fill their lungs with toxins. Women are suddenly feeling safe since men who can't keep it in their pants are either busy queuing up, counting their notes or sharing demonetisation jokes. So much so that India now ranks among the lowest four nations in rape cases. Unbelievable isn't it?
If the current situation continues long enough, Delhi will no longer be the most polluted city in the world. With no crops, what will the farmers and Punjab burn, haan? With no bribes to take, the police might end up sending criminals and not innocents to jail. With protection money drying up, politicians might favour the deserving and not the corrupt. Harassment will not be part of a tax-official's job profile. Files at sarkari offices may brush the dust off their shoulders and start moving. Chai-paani may actually mean chai-paani. And maybe just maybe, the honest, law-abiding citizen has the satisfaction of knowing that his tax-money is not used to line some greedy middleman's pockets and finance his foreign jaunts.
I am telling you, this D-bomb is like that powerful pesticide that exterminates all the pests in just one go! So what if it kills a few crops that it was meant to protect? Isn't this is what patriotic crops do, die for a good cause?