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Published On:Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Posted by Cynical

Why We Indians Love Fighting So Much?

Why we Indians fight so much? I mean we fight with every damn thing that remotely looks like having any kind of life in it. We fight with our neighbor because his dog is consistently shitting on our doorstep; we fight with our doodhwala because he has long forgotten what to mix with what – milk with water or reverse; we fight with railway pantry people for serving us something which in all probability smells and tastes like shit but they call it Daal; we fight with every second person in the street because he just honked the horn one time too many; we fight with our wives (at least this one is justified) since she and Ekta Kapoor in combined conspiracy eating out our juicy debate on Newshour; we can’t fight with our politicians hence we resort to hurling our slippers every time we see them. I mean the list is literally endless and voluminous. Why we Indians love fighting so much? And that too for reasons know to absolutely none. 

I know this guy Kalia (No, name is not changed. Few guys have funny names and digest it) who washes my car every morning; well most of the mornings. His motto in life is to wash cars in the morning and for the rest of the day keep on fighting and climax it with getting bashed up in the hands of his wife for returning yet again in an inhibited condition after a good desi bottle down. Life is all but fight for Kalia. Whenever he doesn’t turn up for work I don’t ask for reasons but call up to know how badly his nose is affected or how many teeth he lost this time around or how blackened his left eye is. At least I have seen twice Kalia running along with his bunch of cronies for life like the way a hoard of dogs run away from the municipality dog catching unit and another lot armed with various assault weapons running behind them like a bunch of hyenas do to their prays. This is not the case with an odd Kalia but majority of our populace. We put on our fighting gloves at the drop of a hat and start our usual TuTu-MainMain without even giving anyone a chance to understand what could have been the reason.

Look at our roads. I am sure if you drive a good 15 kilometers inside any of our cities and don’t see at least a couple of instances of collar dragging or freestyle punching going left-right-and-center then it must be the day when curfew is imposed. The other day while coming back from office at an unmanned traffic junction (a regular feature in India) all hell seemed to have broken lose there. A large chunk of crowd eagerly watching the proceedings and three brave hearts were rolling on the road in a pursuit to prove their one upmanship. Punches were hurled at each other with that familiar Lasith Malinga bowling action and the kicks that were going at random having striking similarity with the kicks that Jitendra showcases in any of his dance numbers. Hair pulling, balls grabbing went on for quite some time till the point the local police arrived to exercise their laathi on the posteriors of the street fighters. Once the gladiators were dumped inside the police van and taken to a place where more treatment can be meted out; the freeze traffic did moved. And all this for what? Out of the three one was alleged to have taken a right turn without showing a hand signal.

Road rage is not the only instances of us getting enraged out of limit. There was this news of a gang involved in a major brawl inside a roadside restaurant with the hotel people. A lot of people got injured in the process with few landing up in various hospitals of the town to fix either their broken bones or uprooted teeth. All started when the hotel boy served them water in glasses which as per the gang were as filthy as toilet bowls. A mere objection lead to a heated beheshwazi and finally culminated at the hotel boy being grabbed by his throat and thrown out of the premises with brute force. That was for sure a recipe for the gang war to begin. At one side the already agitated gang of eaters, while the other containing the entities from the feeding group. Random punches were delivered without any warning and other innocent eaters present inside the room were seen running out like crazy for their lives as if Rakhi Shawant was dropped in between them. Bystanders preferred to stand from a distance and watch the free show while the real life Bollywood shooting going in front of them. Yet again the local police has to intervene to pacify the situation and transport the gravely injured to hospitals and lesser injured to police station for further treatment.

Not only male, even our females are not much behind in this act. Sometime back while I was having a nice plate of Panipuri, I had this nightmare of my life. No sooner I started to take my first bite, a rickshaw stopped by with a husband-wife looking pair got off from it to make their evening more romantic over a plate of spicy Chaat. The order for a nice romantic plate was placed and delicate 1970 Hindi movie lovebird gestures were exchanged. Just when I was about to admire the couple another rickshaw stopped by and a woman on it got off,.. Err jumped off from it, straight on the other woman. No sooner the Panipuri shop was turned into a battleground with hair pulling becoming the norm of the day. Blind slapping, odd kick on the abdomen and that rare punch on the face flowed like a city gutter with rest of the Panipuri lovers (including me) and the man in the middle of the crossfire himself running for their lives. The reason for such mayhem? The women who did an Akshay Kumar was supposed to be the real wife of the man of the romantic pair. Since the woman was suspecting her husband turning one Shakti Kapoor for some time, finally reincarnate herself to one Sherlock Holmes and followed her husband to unearth the rot. And rest as they say is history. I don’t remember if I did paid the Panipuri wala or if he had any sense left after the martial art display to ask for anything.

Even our Cricket is not out of it. The other day a group dressed in cricketing gears were seen jubilantly running out of the field making a lot of noise. Just when I thought it to be a bizarre way of victory celebration, I saw another group, pretty much dressed like the previous group were following them with various cricketing equipment in their hands and making double the noise. What the heck? Two winners simultaneously? Is it a case of a tied match? Little did I know that moment that it is a dispute of the field taken to the roads with the umpires already been beaten black and blue and thrown to the corner. As expected the group engaged in a game of WWF in the mid of the road a little farther resulting in bringing a whole lot of traffic to grinding halt. Hope both BCCI and ICC are taking a note of it since it is a game of the gentlemen.

So the question that remains – “Why we Indians are head-over-heels in love with fighting”? Is it the absence of tolerating power or we are too much blinded in our persuasion to show who is the boss? Or simply we are uncultured lot, who doesn’t know what the minimal civic sense is? How in earth one can get so violent and physical for petty issues which we could have laughed of quite easily? Must be something wrong with the way we were brought up and the society where we live in. Or simply; we guys are utterly useless with more than half of us have got nothing else to do than just eating, shitting and if situation favors fighting.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

YOU NONSENSE INDIANS DESERVE THIS AND ONLY THIS OR EVEN MORE BASHING AND BEATING

YOU NONSENSE UNETHICAL PEOPLE COULD NOT WHOLE HEARTEDLY SUPPORT MODI,MAYA , ANNA,BEDI OR SWAMY ETC SO YOU DESERVE TO BE KILLED SLOWLY AND SLOWLY

YOU NONSENSE PEOPLE FIGHT WITH JUST HE NEXT PERSON IRRESPECTIVE OF WHATEVER GOOD OR BAD SHE DOES.

YOU INSENSIBLE PEOPLE HAVE ALWAYS PUNISHED THOSE AND ONLY THOSE WHO ACTUALLY WORK OR FEEL FOR YOU.

YOU ARE WEAK PEOPLE JUST CHERISHING FEW BRIGHT STARS AND PRAYING THEM AS GOD TO SAVE YOURSELF.

YOU LOOSER INDIANS, KEEP MOANING, GRINNING ..............

Anonymous said...

good narration of actual road side scenes of Indians

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