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Journalism of Courage
It’s 6.30 am sharp. The preset alarm on the Akai sound system is activated and her room fills with Madonna crooning, `Papa Don’t Preach…‘ She opens her eyes wearily. She hates going anywhere in the morning, especially so early. But today she must… yawn. She wakes up, changes the audio cassette to Boyzone’s `Where We Belong‘ and enters the bathroom. She picks up her Cibaca tooth-bruch, squeezes Aquafresh tooth-paste on it and starts brushing. After she’s done, she enters the kitchen, where a bowl of Kellogg’s Chocos is waiting for her. She eats, an Archie comic in hand. After `breakfast’ she is back in her room. She picks up her Panasonic cordless and dials a number “Hello…. ya, its me… at 9 o’clock, right?…. ya, I’ll be there, bye”. She enters her bathroom once again, this time for a bath. Lux International soap, Pantene shampoo. She comes out half an hour later I stands before her wardrobe. Something Indian today. Salwar-kameez, perhaps? Naaah – not comfortable enough. She finallydecides on a pair of Pepe jeans and a simple Versace T-shirt. She sprays on a Calvin Klein and looks into the mirror.
As she gets behind the wheel of the red Santro, she feels hungry. Thank God for the cake and chips she forgot in the car last night. She inserts an Aerosmith cassette into the car-stereo and starts the car. Munching on the chips, she glances at her Cartier watch, a gift on her 18th birthday. 7.55 am. Good. Today she can’t afford to be late.
The car stops at a signal. An urchin is selling magazines. She buys a copy of Elle and flips through it. The signal turns green. She drops the magazine on the passenger seat and resumes driving. In her mind, she runs through her schedule for the day. After the function, they’d all go for lunch at MacDonalds. Probably catch a movie after that. Either the Matrix or Entrapment. She’d vote for the Matrix, though – Keanu Reaves is definitely sexier than Sean Connery.
Another signal. What is it with the jam? Today is supposed to be a national holiday, right? Man, this city is going to the dogs… There, green again. Another look at the watch – 8.35. Chill. There’s time. She’s driving at a comfortable pace. The cake’s not chilled, but hey! Who cares?
The college at last. And its only 8.50. “There you are” “check out the bag!” “The bouquet is here…”, “lookin’cool babe…”, “Thanks… everything in order?” Of course. The honoured speaker is in the Prof’s Common Room, chatting ith the socio HOD. Cool, Ranji… go inform them that the function’s about to begin”. “check”. “The mike’s fine?” ..“Yeah… checked it”. “Neat crowd, na?” “Pretty cool”. “I never expected so many people to attend, man”.. “Arre, subject hi aisa hai!” “The speaker’s here”.
She stood behind the microphone on the podium. “Respected professors and fellow students… as the co-ordinator of this small function. I’d like thank you’ll attending. Our guest speaker today is Mr. Simon Bannerji, Professor of Sociology at D….. college. Mr. Banerji, an Oxford graduate has been teaching sociology for the past ten years. We would like to welcome him with this bouquet… “Applause.” To further introduce him, I request Mrs. Sheila Rao, HOD of the sociology department to please come on stage…” 15 minutes of introduction later, Mr. Banerji got up to seapk. “Hello everybody, my topic today, on India’s 51st year of Independence, is the westernistaion of Indian culture…”
Jai Hind. (Hey Ram!!!).
