Sunday, April 10, 2011

Despicable me

The forwarded mail was inflamed with just anger and indignation. The one who sent it and the ones who saw it before me had entered their names. The signature drive was on. The youth, the old, the wise and the ignorant; my whole country was waking up from their sleeper-cell-slumber in response to a frail man's war-cry. His name was Anna Hazare.

I resisted my temptation to ask my colleague: Who is this guy? Oh don't! Better sense prevailed. What if he thinks that I am such an ignoranamus! Silently I googled and found what I needed to know. Thank God for internet. No one knows what you do not know, what you pretend to know.

For a moment I wondered what would have happened if the Lokpal bill had been a reality a few years back. I shuddered at the mere thought. I had paid the Panchayat, the Sales tax department and many more to get my pet project on the road. Any aspiring business man would have done the same thing. There is a time when principles swell up your throat and you push it down just to ease up matters. I am not the only one. I was just following the norm.

But this mail was in my face. Shimmering in the white virtual glow on my computer waiting to be dealt with. I had to join the millions who would add their names to the ever growing list. Together this would shake the foundations of the servers around the world choking internet bandwidth. A few netizens would rub their hands in glee while raking in thousands in exchange for mail id's they sell to an online viagra seller.

I signed it. Forwarded it to a dozen Indian friends of mine. They were all in their early 40's. Viagra might help. Just thinking about it, I felt aroused.

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