Periodically a tonsured me appears on Facebook, with a poem or a post from historical times. That was when I visited Tirupati and offered my few inches but dense keratin treasure at the feet of Lord Balaji. What could have been the honorifics for Hindu Gods before the arrival of the English or the appearance of Christ confounds me sometimes; a Mister or a Sir are highly inadequate of holiness and a misnomer.
Be that as it may, the addressing of gods is the least concern of this post, which my mind began with exploring the power of publicity and advertising. The magical hair oil sellers from Patanjali and some homoeopathic(!) have started invading my sites like locusts. From the average 300 spam and promotional messages, two-thirds could be presently attributed to hair lotions. I inadvertently asked if a famous Baba, offering hair growth solutions (besides solutions for every other need), had mistakenly applied the oil to his body. I stopped receiving any ads from them after that.
I find a lot of talk on the TV about startups, and a new assault is, offering me wigs! Amitabh style and Muzaffar Ali types as well. The algorithms are working overtime in fish-hooking me as a prize catch selling my once bald pate to hair oil manufacturers.
I also wonder about the same successful faces, scoring above 99.9 percentage marks in one or other public exams assuring that they have scored that high only due to books published by A, B or C, all in severe competition. All TV crews raid the houses of these toppers, and the top seems to be crowded more than the bottom for a clip, promoting their neighbourhood ‘thele-bhaja,’ fries, or branded shoes.
I lament none came to my house ever when I passed out. The reasons, though, could vary much; there were no TVs when I passed my final school exams, and the ad-gurus did not realise the potential of promotion of the All-Bengal Teachers Association ABTA test papers with my face. roThe other more relevant fact was I was one of those idiots in the class and barely managed to pass each exam, thanks to my more knowledgeable friends sitting in front of me and my sharp eyes and the examiners’ poor eyesight.
I was bad in languages, Math, economics, physics, history, geography, and chemistry. Wait, did I miss any subject? My aversion to Hindi was genetic ( I am a Tamil), and I could tolerate my grandmother’s periodic dose of castor oil to clear my bowels than economics that I had to study. They were boring. I had to earn a livelihood and make a living. I thought telling stories could be rewarding and went on telling stories, trying to interpolate with one or other ‘Tharoorish’ words to keep the listeners wondering and forget whatever I was trying to say; I, in turn, forgetting where I began.
That brings me to the question of our Finance Minister’s weighty statement, that ‘It is the US Dollar which is strengthening and not the Rupee weakening.’ I decided to dedicate this post to this single divine utterance and eloborate. But, unfortunately, my lack of knowledge humbly put my efforts down.
Finally, for a jack of all trades, one can choose a job as a politician, a bureaucrat, a lawyer or someone unclassified like me. Enjoy your weekend.
Sampath Kumar
Intrépide Voix
