The Avial Strikes Back

Lets face it – in all our diversity, we Indians are a parochial lot. The recent episode when a totally stupid rubber-mouth Radio Jockey from Red FM went LIVE on air making fun of Prashant Tamang (Indian Idol, 2007) and his Gorkha roots is just one example. Fiercely biased about our own and unabashedly disdainful of others… its no wonder we think like Marathis, Macks, Gujjus and Tamilians… and not like Indians.

Recently, I made the mistake of asking a not-so-intelligent female whether she was a Mallu… because I saw an A4 poster in Malayalam pinned on her soft-board. The response startled me!!

‘Do I Look Mallu to you’?!?!

Like as if Mallus were supposed to be cross-eyed? Or Buck –toothed? Or with three tits? Or testicles instead to eye-balls? I’ve changed. Really – because if I got this response a few years ago, I would have truly unleashed hell on her.

Anyway, back to the point. Being the parochial Indian – I too am slightly biased towards my ilk (albeit very slightly). It doesn’t matter to me whether Dhoni is from Bihar or Uttarakhand. If he wears Blue with the bold letters (not Sahara, but INDIA), that’s all that matters to me. I don’t understand why half the nation goes potty because Ramesh Pawar gets selected instead of some other T20 hero. For me, if you are in that uniform – you represent me and 1.2 billion other Indians.

So, when I see (and read) about this new weapon of mass destruction we have in our armory called S Sreesanth, I’m really hurt. It insults my intelligence to think that there is no one in the BCCI or Indian cricket establishment who can ask this boy to behave. Does he not realize that he his representing his country more than anything else? That his behaviour is actually embarrassing us, his countymen – and maybe even costing his team vital runs/ dot-balls/ wickets/ …?

And when I see this proud, immature and semi-literate mallu proudly proclaim how he had to overcome regional bias to make it to the premiere team in India – and how aggression is his key USP – and beating the pitch with his bare hands, screaming at the umpires, dancing like a demented tribal who just found out he was screwing his sister’s ass under the coconut tree – I tend to lose it.

Suddenly, I wish Matt Hayden and Andrew Symonds break this kid’s spirit by rubbing his flat-tribal nose into the ground and make him bite the dust they spat on… because I no longer see an Indian or a Mallu getting mauled – but a pint-sized moron who has another 20 months left in world cricket to bring his country and the sport (at large) shame and embarrassment.

Someone please tell this chut that if he wants to dance, a hundred shape-shifting Mallu pavada-veshti’s are out there ready to fulfill his true ambitions. As long as he is in the team, I look forward to Australia taking the mickey out of him and the very team that tolerates his bullshit.

If someone knows him – please gift him a book (though I doubt he knows how to read anything other than ‘How-a-mallu-can-do-the-fucking-moonwalk’) called Out Of My Comfort Zone. True aggression is in breaking down your opponents without them even knowing it. I would have suggested The Art of War. But that’s taking it a bit too far with this mallu ass.