Satire Interviews- RAtS

"Hello friends! Today we interview a person whom nobody knows. And that's precisely why she is here with us. Am I right Ms RAts?

"Absolutely. I am a very famous journalist in my gully, and I have written a lot of important articles on bladder habits of Taimur, which have been appreciated by everyone in my office. Even the sweeper."

"So, that takes your list of admirers to...?"

"Five. Apart from me, my office has a watchman, a receptionist, an intern and a sweeper."

"That's amazing. So, tell me about yourself. I am sure our readers are not interested in knowing who you are, but let's get it over with anyway."

"Thank you for asking that. See, I am a gender-fluid, free-speech warrior, travel freak, sapiosexual, cat hoarder."

"Ma'am, I haven't asked your twitter bio. I said, who are you?"

"But that's who I am. My twitter bio is literally my CV. Outside of twitter, I am not sure whether i even exist."

"So, what if Twitter were to, say, go down for a few hours?"

"I would be dead to the world. Alive, biologically. But otherwise, dead."

"That's such a Transcendence-level thought. Now, coming to the present. Tell our readers why you became famous yesterday."

"So, this was the thing. Modi asked Indians to stay united, and clap and bang plates to appreciate the coronavirus warriors. And I saw everyone appreciate the move. Of course, our own poison chalice, Ms Rana Ayyub, showed her hate there too. But it wasn't enough. I spotted an opportunity."

"What kind of opportunity?"

"There was nobody opposing this move except inconsequential people like Rana Ayyub, who nobody cares about. So I decided to jump in ans grab some headlines."

"And did it work?"

"Well, do you know my real name? No. And yet, here I am giving you an interview! Of course it worked! All I had to do was to write abuses on twitter and wish ugly things on people who stood united with the nation. Within minutes, hate began to pour in. But more importantly, so did the replies, the retweets, the Likes. These are the Roti, Kapda, Makaan of Twitter citizens like me."

"Very interesting point Miss.... whatever your name is. But all this hate, does it not affect you?"

"Barely. In fact, it has now inspired other attention-starved non celebrities to gain some traction. All we have to do is to show hate towards Indians, throw a random gomutra jibe and suddenly people like Kunal Kamra start following us."

"Kunal Kamra follows you?"

"Yes. Not on twitter though. He follows me daily when I go to work in the morning and return in the evening."

"Haha! That must be for his next stand up performance I think. Right?"

"Yes. Even if it were not, we can't risk alienating any kind of support, you see."

"So, do you really mean all these tweets about hoping that Modi voters get coronavirus?  Or the abuses?"

"Not at all. These are just a

 way to get people see my profile. If I dont get enough clicks in my articles, my advertisers won't pay me."

"Okay, too much honestly here. No wonder you didn't cut it as a journalist. Anyway, it was great talking to you."

"Thank you. Watch out for my next tweet. This time, I am gonna say how Pakistan is better than India. Oh, I can't imagine how much hate and attention I will receive!"

Your journalism is a JOKE and that's what Modi said!!

The previous interview with Mr. P.A.K.I.S.T.Anees Ghoulam had left me with more questions than answers. He had praised our role in sustaining their narrative against India, and that made me think about the original Godfather of Liberal journalism. That was when I came across the news that he has won the Top Ramen Noodles award for Yellow Journalism. His chief contribution was to find a way to blame everything on Mr Modi within 2 minutes. He was the reason most of us took up journalism as a hobby and peddling Left agendas as a career. I knew that I had to interview him.

"Welcome Mr....."

"Please dont give me a name here", he cut me off, "I am more than a name. I am a movement. I am every kind of movement in India- Leftist movement, Freedom movement, Bowel movement."

"Understood sir. So, how does it feel to win the prestigious Top Ramen Noodles award?"

"It is amazing, you know. I knew that peddling Left agenda can be rewarded by money, but I never knew I can get awards too."

"But what about the allegations that the company that gave away the awards is owned by your brother?"

"What?? How can you accuse me of being a capitalist? I am a socialist, nay, a Communist to the core. Even while coming here, I took a rickshaw, so that people can see how down to earth I am," he said, pouring himself a glass of Champagne.

"So the company is not owned by your brother?"

"It is owned by him, no doubt. But what my brother does is his problem, not mine. I focus on my work and it was my work that got me the award. Do you want to know the chief reason I won it?"

"What?"

"I coined the expression "Thats what Modi said!" It worked wonders. So, everytime anyone even remotely connected to BJP would say or do something stupid, our team would shout on television...."

"THAT'S WHAT MODI SAID!"

"Yes! Isn't it fun?"

"Wow sir. You are indeed an inspiration to us. How do you come up with such gems?"

"See, the essence of journalism is not how you find out the truth. Or how you present the truth. Or whether whatever you show is truth at all. The essence of journalism is how well you help those who finance you."

"I remember what you said on the first day of our college, sir. Please repeat it for the benefit of our readers."

"Socialist journalism needs capitalism to survive."

"Amazing. Young reporters like myself learnt this from you. We accept money from everywhere, but write to please the one who pay us the most."

"Correct. Only two ways to make money in this job- either you outsell everyone else, or you become a sellout. Since the former requires work and dedication, I choose to be the latter."

"So, how will you define your brand of sellout journalism?"

"So my journalism is all about opposing the fascist forces taking over our country. What we have as PM is literally Hitler. There is no space for dissent in the country. And I am doing dissent eveyday on television to oppose fascism."

"But they say your shows don't get TRPs any more, and people prefer to watch Mr Ornab."

"Yes. But they are common people, cattle class. They dont matter in the industry of news-making. Our journalism is for those who pay for it. They should feel happy that we are speaking their lines. What will the cattle class do by watching news, eh? Become Prime Minister?"

"Actually our current PM was one of those...."

"And THAT'S why I am here!! To ensure that NOBODY from the aam junta again dares to dream of becoming the PM, and that the power of the land remains concentrated in the hands of the few who have the means and power to pay us. I am here to ensure that the common man always remembers that if they dream to be the PM, they will face similar insults, trolling at the hands of elite and we will encourage that because the ELITE pay us and not the common man. The common man is just that- common, and they are destined to remain so."

I stood up and gave him a Nazi salute. He deserved it. His words brought tears to my eyes.

"You are amazing sir. No other journalist is a match for you. The power-families of the country will forever be grateful to your socialist journalism, which ensured them decades of power, before the current disrupter Hitler Modi took over. We still have so much to learn from you."

"Thank you. It is always a pleasure to rant against Modi, because frankly, I love my livelihood. This is what brings in my daily bread."

Interview done, we both got up and listened to the Communist anthem and started singing "Aazaadi" song with our dear comrade Nahi-kha-ya Kumar who was singing it outside my office. So I really dont understand why some people who worked in the clinic next door suddenly came and threw us all out. Can they not bear some noise? Darr ka maahol hai...

And they killed a son of a headmaster, a father of a Harvard student and a religious scholar..

Yesterday,  after a couple of drinks, I started hurling abuses outside our chawl, er, society. I abused my society chairman, my neighbours. I also threw stones at their windows. Now today, they want me locked in my room, er,  apartment and not leave until I sober up. Bloody fascists!! So, locked in the confines of my house, I decided to interview the person who would know all about it- Mr Parvez Abdul Khan Iftikhar Shah Tahir Anees Ghoulam, better known as P.A.K.I.S.T.Anees Ghoulam, head of a little known, bt extremely active organisation,  Kashmiris in India for Separate State Association (K.I.S.S.Ass). The organisation is mainly engaged in arranging for stone throwers for protests and activists for attacking Indian army camps.

"Activists, Mr Ghoulam?"

"Well of course. They are active. In activities. The activities that cause death and destruction  to Endian army. That makes them exactly what we call them- Activists. "

"It is an interesting  thought. Your activists are sure scaring the hell out of those soldiers!"

"You are getting us wrong brother. Our aim is not to scare them. We want to provoke them into attacking us back. Because who will join our cause if we dont show ourselves to be the victims of state oppression?"

"But would it not harm your kids? I mean, the oppressor Army maiming and killing them, it is bound to have casualties, right?"

"My kids? They are studying in London, where they will marry some Brit and contribute to our global cause."

"Oooh! Smart! But no, i was talking about the kids you send to attack the Army."

"Their job description includes the risk. They have the best job in the world- suicide bomber. No other job in the world so perfectly describes the work and risks so precisely."

"So how do you recoup the losses?"

"Oh, misguided youth are dime a dozen. Show them some videos, some random photos, activate their minds with key words-sacrifice, freedom etc. And they are ready to explode for you."

"Changing the topic for now. It's getting a bit too honest here. Not good journalism!"

"Hahaha! Well said bhaijaan. I am also not much used to honesty. My training sessions are also....."

"Cutting you off right here Mr P.A.K.I.S.T.Anees Ghoulam! Tell me, what is your response to allegations that you are a Pakistani agent?"

"I find it ridiculous, you know. I work for the interest of the oppressed muslims of Kashmir! I am not an agent or servant of Pakistan," Mr P.A.K.I.S.T.Anees Ghoulam added.

"So, if Kashmir gets azaadi, what industries do you think will help in its development?"

"Import-export. Our organisation import guns and grenades from pakistan and exports terorrists, er, bomb activists. Lucrative business."

"But what about the peace loving people in the Valley?"

"Oh most of them are peace loving. Thats why our recruitment agents work overtime in spreading hate against India. So that the peaceful people join our cause."

"What kind of agents?"

"The media, and India's liberals, of course. As long as your newspapers run headlines like 'And they hanged Yakub', as long as Burhan Wani is identified as a headmaster's son, as long as Osama is described as a loving father, as long as Baghdadi is called a religious scholar, and as long as your liberals write mercy petitions for our terrorists who killed hundreds of your own people, our activities will never stop receiving volunteers."

"Well, thanks for the complements. Yes, we love to glorify terrorists for viewership. Also we will support anyone, ANYONE who is against the current government, even if it means going against the nation. All for our liberal ideology. We want to protect rights of everyone, especially if we can use them mock the ruling party's claims of a secure India."

"Exactly bhaijaan. As long as we have support of the likes of you, our activities will never cease, and one day, we will bring an end to islamic oppression in India!!"

"That's a noble thought. Speaking of oppression, what do you think about oppression of Uighurs in China?"

"Uighurs? What is that?"

"Muslims in China..."

"China? Never heard of it. Okay, this interview is over. We have never spoken. Over and out."

Just before the line was cut, I could hear staccato of firing. Time to create another fatherly figure, religious scholar killed by the Army....

Moonwalk on earth

The Fall

Depressed, dejected, devoid, of all will to live

Failures galore, nobody to adore,

Nothing left to the world, for me to give,

Decided I, to end it all, and took the fall, from floor fourth of flats.

The Pit

 "He will live, but never walk" announced they,

Remaining courage and hope, in a word, trounced they.

I lay in bed, immobile, lost, shamed

Dreaming of death, more of use than  maimed.

The Ignition- 

Long at last, I had, something to fight for

Long at last, I had, a dawn to suffer the night for.

For one day, I will not only walk, but run,

For one day, I will have a battle I would've won.

Thrust and Liftoff-

Days changed to months, months to years,

Agonizing, ardous treatments, dried my tears

Darkness befallen, bereft of light's on-switch,

And then suddenly my toe felt a twitch!

Landing and Moonwalk-

With shaking limbs, and disbelieving head,

I beat the gravity of the bed

I put the foot down and walked on the earth,

A small step for me, a giant step for my rebirth.

-Shivam

 

Troll and Peace

Volley of words, vulgar and verbose
Fired from the bow, brute and bellicose,
as arguments heated enough to melt a metal
exchanged, expressed, with no aim to settle.

Enraged, I waged, a war sans décor
Dazed, yet unfazed I fought for my corps
What do I have to lose, I thought.
With no fear of fatality,  I fought.

Over actors, politicians, countries we sparred
Fires of abuses, insults kept us charred
We brawled bad because we believe
a difference we were making, ah, so naive.

With armament of abuse, I attacked
With artillery of affront, I got whacked.
This went on and on and on, till I lost
And that was when I realized it's cost

Costed me, my time that I had to unwind.
Costed me the peace of my mind.
I left the trolls and online fighters be,
And rested in repose, gloating with glee.

The Urchin

Urchin urgin' where the roads be mergin'
To the yang of economy emergin'
the urchin just be the yin

They beg, they bang, they scrub
your windows, your cars clean
sellin' a trifle or a trinklet
and takin' whatever they can glean

When they should be playin', they be payin'
the price of penniless existence
Jumpin' the traps, fightin' for scraps
to find two square meals of subsistence.

Shooed, booed, turned away in manners most crude,
to the rough and the rude, they are inured
"Gang or mafia", we mutter as we turn them away
the urchin be smirkin', for, it's just another day

Time to think within, and introspect
What have they have done, to deserve this disrespect
Is their fault just that they be born on street
To eyes accustomed to diamonds, they just be peat.

-Shivam'da'

The Eye of the World

They were all true, all your worst fears
For these walls once had eyes and ears.

See'th I, all your laughs and smiles
Heard I, your fights and reconciles
For ye all came to me to rejoice
Your joy buoyed my own voice.

They were all true..

Witness'd I too, the tears rolling down your cheek
Harketh (1)  I, the life if your loved one get so bleak
For ye all came to me to mourn
For I get to see you all forlorn.

They were all true....

Once, I used to grieve with your kind,
Once I used to make merry
Now I know, gloom isn't eternal
Now I know, not all seasons are vernal (2).

They were all true...

Who am I, you might ask?
The omniscient, omnipresent?
From the fires of the world, I give you douse,
I am your own space, your shelter, your house.

1) Harketh-  Archaic term for 'heard'

2) Vernal- Related to spring season.