[Reader-list] Gandu world, words, Ajay and Raju

[MRSG]

Dear Vivek Narayan
I have not asked any explanation from Inder Salim or said anything against 
his posting also. I only asked for a story on Muhammad also based on 
historical fact. I would rather ask you to explain what made you suddenly 
jump in this issue,- too much hurt getting that some truth on Muhammad 
getting exposed through this reader list.
Mohit Ray


----- Original Message ----- 
From: "Vivek Narayanan" <vivek at sarai.net>
To: "kirdar singh" <kirdarsingh at gmail.com>
Cc: "MRSG" <mrsg at vsnl.com>; "sarai list" <reader-list at sarai.net>
Sent: Tuesday, March 04, 2008 11:20 AM
Subject: Re: [Reader-list] Gandu world, words, Ajay and Raju


> Dear Kirdar and Mohit Ray,
>
> Can either of you please explain to me what exactly is so offensive and 
> denigrating to Hindus in Inder Salim's post below?  Is it the use of 
> varieties of language that one often hears on the street?  Or is it that 
> Sita is more heroic than Ram-- as argued by the characters in the first 
> section?  Please quote directly from the piece to support your argument.
> Also, I'd like to hear your analysis of the second part of this piece, 
> which might be lost in the midst of hullabaloo.  What , for instance, do 
> you make of or find offensive about IS's closing paragraph:
>
> "We collectively own our past. Our misfortunes,  if any, were written by 
> the billions and billions of our predecessors.  And since they are living 
> within us as well, we are experiencing their fates too. Are not we a 
> conglomeration of echoes and traces of our past?   Ontologically we are 
> moving to and fro, so we may write a word or not even, the fact of being 
> of our existence remains."
>
> ?
> Vivek
>
> kirdar singh wrote:
>> I am extremely pained to read these mails which in the name of free
>> expression provoke people beyong their limits - as it is the sanity on
>> this list is hanging by a thin thread.
>>
>> MRSG simply needed an excuse to bring out his latent hatred and
>> deep-rooted bias against Mohammad and Islam, but I would blame Inder
>> Salim equally for starting it all. I would humbly request you not to
>> continue your story any further - it would be better if you stand on
>> the road and narrate it to the people.
>>
>> (By the way, MRSG, who told you Mohammad had a son?)
>>
>> Kirdar
>>
>>
>>
>> On 3/3/08, MRSG <mrsg at vsnl.com> wrote:
>>
>>> Waiting for a story on  Mohammad who rapes his own son's wife and make
>>> it legal so that everybody can do that. Ofcourse his youngest wife 
>>> Ayesha
>>> enjoys herself with others in the desert to teach him a lesson.
>>>
>>> ----- Original Message -----
>>> From: "inder salim" <indersalim at gmail.com>
>>> To: <reader-list at sarai.net>
>>> Sent: Monday, March 03, 2008 8:55 AM
>>> Subject: [Reader-list] Gandu world, words, Ajay and Raju
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>>>    On the banks of dead River Yamuna, a place adjacent to Nigmbodh Gaht 
>>>> (
>>>>    Crematorium in Delhi)
>>>>
>>>>    Raju ( worker at Crematorium ): Do you know why they say Ram Ram , 
>>>> Ram
>>>>
>>>>    Ram when they bring a  'laash' ( corpse)  for burning.
>>>>
>>>>    Ajay ( another worker at Crematorium ): How do I know? I never went 
>>>> to
>>>>         school, But you gandu  ( Gandu is someone who get his ass 
>>>> screwed,
>>>>          rather relishes the act ), you also don't know.
>>>>
>>>>    Raju : but I saw it on the Television. A Guru said that people call
>>>>             Ram Ram to come to take this ' laash' corpse back .
>>>>
>>>>    Ajay: And he comes and takes it back.( hands over his ganja chilam 
>>>> to
>>>> Raju)
>>>>
>>>>    Raju: Yes, because everybody is a Ravana, and on behalf of the dead 
>>>> (
>>>>             laash ) , people say Ram, Ram. Because Ravana also uttered 
>>>> Ram
>>>> Ram
>>>>            when he died by the arrow of Bhagwan Rama.
>>>>
>>>>    Ajay: Aray Chootiya, Ravana was a Gandu. He kidnapped Sita Mata. But
>>>>             how are we Ravana then.
>>>>
>>>>    Raju: I don't know, but this is how, a guru maharaj said on the
>>>>             Television. ( returns back his chilam to Ajay )
>>>>
>>>>    Ajay: He too is Gandu
>>>>
>>>>    Raju:  Look, we also do bad things. That is why.
>>>>
>>>>    Ajay: which bad thing I do ? Ma-ki choot, ( mother's vagina), we are
>>>>            dying for a two square meals, and you say that we are bad.
>>>>
>>>>    Raju: We are not bad, but this is what he said. Achha, tell me, 
>>>> don't
>>>>            you go to sleep with a  Gashti ( prostitute ) living just
>>>> over there.
>>>>
>>>>    Ajay:  yes, of course, we both go, so what. We pay her. All the rich
>>>>            people do it, and so what is wrong with it.
>>>>
>>>>    Raju: No I don't say it like that, but do you know that the girl you
>>>>              sleep with was kidnapped once.
>>>>
>>>>    Ajay: How do I know? I never get time to ask the silly questions,
>>>>           behenchod, you ejaculate quickly, and that is why you get 
>>>> time
>>>> to ask
>>>>          all these questions.
>>>>
>>>>    Raju: No, I was thinking,  is not a little Ravana in all of us who
>>>>            fucks the kidnapped girl.
>>>>
>>>>    Ajay: Aray, chootiaya, the prostitute we sleep with is happy,  not
>>>>            like Sita Mata who wanted to return back to meet her husband
>>>> and God
>>>>          Rama.
>>>>
>>>>    Raju: But, imagine, if she was kidnapped at a very tender age, and
>>>>            think who would have come to rescue her.
>>>>
>>>>    Ajay: yes, you are right, I never thought like this.
>>>>
>>>>    Raju: and see the unfortunate thing, Sita Mata was banished by Lord
>>>>             Rama because people questioned her purity while in
>>>> possession of evil
>>>>             Ravana.
>>>>
>>>>    Ajay: And he really banished her?
>>>>
>>>>    Raju: Yes, when she was pregnant, and helpless.
>>>>
>>>>    Ajay: And gandu people say Ram Ram Ram Ram when some one dies.
>>>>
>>>>    Raju: They should say Sita Sita Sita Sita
>>>>
>>>>    Ajay: Array, behenchod, you are a mind eater, and that is why I 
>>>> don't
>>>>            smoke with you. Now, before we go, make one last chilam.
>>>> This world is
>>>>            a fucking place. Forget who is saying what and why.
>>>>
>>>>    Raju: You are right, meray yaar ( my friend ), give me the light...
>>>>
>>>>    (2)
>>>>
>>>>    Just quenched my thirst,  but I am thirsty. Who am I? I am not
>>>>    thirsty, but I am about to quench my thirst. Who am I?
>>>>    Just, writing lines like these makes me a poet, you know, but poetry
>>>>    is deeper than-this-than-this known outburst of words loaded
>>>>    artificially with a deeper question on desire.
>>>>
>>>>    Poetry is perhaps, oscillating between the mouth which eats bread 
>>>> and
>>>>    the anus which makes more space for the mouth to eat more. But it 
>>>> just
>>>>    happens that a mirror like thing sits in front of our eyes in such a
>>>>    way that we often end up seeing just the mouth-eating-the-bread 
>>>> area.
>>>>
>>>>    Rest of it is often dismissed as shit, you know.
>>>>
>>>>    Even now, this typing these words is at the level of a projected
>>>>    profile, the same which shows each one of us our upper frontals 
>>>> called
>>>>    'faces' in the mirror. So this activity of writing words at the best
>>>>    is a meaningful time pass.
>>>>
>>>>    Yes, only if a plain reflector piece would accompany the bread piece 
>>>> I
>>>>    eat, which if smoothly journeys the alimentary canal and beyond, 
>>>> then
>>>>    I can expect to see the truer nature of words. But that is unlikely,
>>>>    since almost everything what we imagine is innocently handed over to
>>>>    words, which shapes it accordingly to its own set of rules, let 
>>>> alone
>>>>    this impossible task of devouring a mechanism that links each known
>>>>    with the each unknown; so that we can draw the circle, which is the
>>>>    wisest of all.
>>>>
>>>>    It almost sounds that I want to pick up words-born-in-shit with
>>>>    forceps, like thread-worms from the lower colon, and arrange them on 
>>>> a
>>>>    black slate outside. They of course will dancingly speak a language,
>>>>    but sooner they will cease to be.
>>>>
>>>>    By now, you saw, how desperately I try to write a good poem with the
>>>>    stock of words already available with me, which I naively believe is
>>>>    vital for the survival of a human being, Forget the poem, all I
>>>>    managed to do is to humiliate the being of words, words which 
>>>> perhaps,
>>>>    betrayed me in the past; so this character assassination of words. 
>>>> Is
>>>>    that true?
>>>>
>>>>     No, the mask, has all the reasons to celebrate. If the mask jumps, 
>>>> so
>>>>    does the thing behind the mask. Two words written by two lovers can
>>>>    hug, kiss and make love even. One word can fall in love with other
>>>>    word.  One word can impregnate the other, and become a mother of
>>>>    children- words. The words, after a little growth, can sit around 
>>>> the
>>>>    mother-word and listen a bed time story even.
>>>>
>>>>    So, accordingly, one can write about a daily wage labourer, who 
>>>> makes
>>>>    his living by working hard under the Indian exploitative conditions.
>>>>    He curses his chootiya fate for being so, but believes that God is
>>>>    supreme, and it is He who has written his destiny like that. Ah, 
>>>> this
>>>>    business of writing the fates of others. I  should not, if I too
>>>>    believe that God has indeed written his fate, then why on earth I 
>>>> need
>>>>    to imitate that silly habit of writing fates of others. But then I
>>>>    have reasons to write about this poor man. If indeed God has written
>>>>    his fate, then I should re-write his fate.  But I firmly believe 
>>>> that
>>>>    God does not exist, and if so, then nothing was ever written for us
>>>>    mortals on this earth.  We collectively own our past. Our 
>>>> misfortunes,
>>>>    if any, were written by the billions and billions of our 
>>>> predecessors.
>>>>    And since they are living within us as well, we are experiencing 
>>>> their
>>>>    fates too. Are not we a conglomeration of echoes and traces of our
>>>>    past?   Ontologically we are moving to and fro, so we may write a 
>>>> word
>>>>    or not even, the fact of being of our existence remains.
>>>>
>>>>
>