Fight Club - Mr Villkhoo's Awakening

I just watched Fight club for the n’th time. Tyler’s in my head right now. I am Tyler Durden. I am the cancerous growth blobbing inside his head. Ready to blow, to unleash death. I walk 4 steps and bang my fist on the wall. The pain is obviated by the release of the immense frustration inside me. The animal is on the prowl. To devour, to devastate. Once again the image of the Hindi film Fight club comes to his mind. He winces with even the thought of such sacrilege. How could the director violate the sanctity of such a masterpiece? Just for the heck of it, he punches the paper stack. A few mid-days fly outta the window. The phone rings. Someone asks for Mr.Villkhoo. Tyler growls “Mr.Villkhoo is being screwed by the world right now. Do you want to hear his hapless whimpers? Haan? Do you? you S.O.B…” The voice now transforms into an engage tone. Tyler gets up and opens the door, to find another victim. He walks down the stairs. 3 flights down he meets the wretched old man. Yes, Mr.Villkhoo had been polite to him even when he cursed. But Tyler lets him have it. The old man nearly has a stroke and is staggering when Tyler decides to move on. He is still seeping with anger, bobbing in the deepest trenches of his heart. He picks up a paper and comes back to his building when a kid stops him and asks him for the newspaper. The kid says he wants to read the Comic strips. The Cartoon strips. Tyler has started to hate these strips. He never imagined they could cause so much devastation. He never thought it could insult a religion or ever be used for the same. He never agreed to the mayhem, neither the cause, nor the effect, but it deepened the cavern inside him. What do these fanatics hope to achieve. Worldwide reactions deploring the act are not enough. Apology is not enough. They want the cartoonists head!!! Like it is an apple hanging from a branch. Pluck it and I will bury u in gold. He slams the paper on the kid’s head. The kid winces with pain. Owwwww’ what did u do that for.??” . “Cartoons could kill” sez Tyler and moves on.

He wishes he could just blow into smithereens the politicians who play with the uneducated and down trodden masses. Who instigate the public, mind-wash them, throw them into the forefront and watch from the sidelines as they r lined up to be killed. He hopes education would pervade the society like ants in his cupboard. Tyler doesn’t pay heed to any chants for Mr.Villkhoo. He just barges past everyone and gives them the finger. Inside his house again, he closes his eyes to the sight of Police slapping his friend. He remembers the day vividly. Meerut garden. Police slap his friend repeatedly. What was his offence? Holding his soul mates hand in public. He names the guy Rohit. Rohit was his friend. The police had unjustly beaten him in front of cameras. The moral policing in India nowadays has reached its epitome. First the police harassed people in the name of the law, now in the name of morals. He vowed in the name of Rohit, that he would teach the system one day. Tyler snaps out of it. He sits in front of the television. The one thing he loves. He switches it on, to find something he would like to see. All over the channels he finds spiteful old Indian bahus and baas. He hates it. He makes a mental note of blowing up the Balaji studio.

The news channels are even more depressing and distressing. Continuous fabrication of useless but instigating news amazes him. News now has turned into a monkey show. One channel’s anchor stands in front of a monkey and says “ Kya aaj yeh monkey 12:00 baje kela khayega? Aisa hua toh Swami ke hisaab se duniya ka the end”. Its 11:30. He moves on to cartoon network. Just then he remembers the verdict of making television the domain of kids. On the basis of some moral debate by a College professor, who couldn’t mind her own business, the court had ordered to stop airing any A or PG content on Television. Yes, he thinks. Nowadays parents have turned into turds, only capable of stinking. Utterly enraged, he moves on to sports. He hopes he could kick the system in the groin with the same brutal force as Adriano kicks the ball. The spite is flowing in his veins. He watches football, as he reminisces the day he was insulted by the tamilians in Chennai. Yes, it was case of a few bad grapes, but they sure did leave a bad taste in his mouth. The sense of being a North Indian had never been so strong in him. Infact he had never even thought of being one. The virtual divide within his country made his mind boggle. Tamilians deplored Hindi, Mumbaikars were utterly nonchalant towards the rest of India., Bengalis burnt effigies of the cricketers of all the other zones, Nagaland never considered itself to be a part of India, Biharis and UP’ites were discriminated against in Maharashtra, Western culture was vandalized by so-called Hindutva-vaadi in Mumbai, zonal biases ruled the roost in Cricket as well as musical competitions. Tyler had had enough! He switched off the Television and put on some music. He loved Music. It elevated him into a heavenly abode. Just as the piece was reaching its crescendo, tyler remembered the unjust eliminations of a few of his favourite contenders in the singing competition he followed. Zonal bias again. Votes of the public. The public had rendered stalwarts of Indian music impotent. The thought of a Kasmiri guy, who did not even know “SA” , winning a popular contest made him want to puke. This was the n’th case of politics deprecating the sanctity of the musical world. What has happened to this world? It had only justified the suicides of the models in Mumbai recently. But he wasn’t that weak. He wanted to kill the system, rather than being killed by it. And then use the same system to get away with murder. Just like a few of the politician’s kids had got away with killing an innocent girl in a bar, in front of 110 people. He laughed at the verdict. Napunsak!!! How could so many people sleep at night after having witnessed a murder and then having the audacity of turning hostile? How could the police and the judicial system let the case drag on for 7 years and then exonerate the accused? What was the world coming to? His mood is aptly conveyed in the song that plays in the background “ABB TOH AADAT SI HAI MUJHKO, AISE JEENEY MAIN…”

He thinks of Iran. Wishes they would produce the Nuclear bomb soon and explode this world. He backs them completely. Who gives U.S. the right to meddle into the affairs of any other country? Screw the U.S. He looks out the window and watches a gardener digging up the fallow land. He laughs again. India raging. Indian bull galloping. India emerging as an economic powerhouse. He laughs. What a farce. What about the farmers? The agriculture sector which employs 70% of the nation? It continues to have miniscule improvements. At the grass root it still rots n stinks. Hypocrisy amuses him. It turns 12:05. He flips to the news channel, half hoping that the monkey would have eaten the banana and the prophecy would be fulfilled. The reporter is doing a jig. He says” Duniya bachch gayi!!” The monkey had apparently gone to sleep at 11:50 and had not eaten the forbidden fruit!! Back into the studio the presenter introduces an expert on the apocalypse!!! Hahahaha… Tyler rolls in laughter. He can’t stand it. He falls down and rolls. Just then his head hits the end of the table and he blanks out.
“Oye Vicky.. utth…”

I get up n dust my clothes. Its 1:30. Well, that’s that. I move onto my daily chores. Tyler has gone into a slumber. Kumbhakaran hai who, Jaagrut hua 6 mahine ke baad, khaayaa…so gaya…Life goes on…..If Only this Kumbhakaran wakes up for eternity……“ABB TOH AADAT SI HAI MUJHKO, AISE JEENEY MAIN…”