The Rushdie Affair (Yes, apparently the world is not done talking about it yet)

Oh for the love of god.

It has been over twenty years. Twenty. Years. People want to kill someone because he wrote some rubbish twenty years ago. Not that I'm calling The Satanic Verses rubbish. I haven't read the book. I tried, but I couldn't get past the second page. Only because I was in the middle of a dissertation and had other things that demanded urgent reading. And also because it was ... erm, slightly dull. Ish. It was a little disappointing, okay? I love Rushdie otherwise. 

Anyhoo. We're not here to discuss my opinion. My opinion doesn't matter. And neither does anybody else's. Rushdie's opinion of Islam does not matter. People don't judge a certain religion based on what one person wrote once upon a time. Do you know when they do judge it? When half the world cries for the author's blood.      And are you telling me that all these people who are ready to chop the infidel into pieces have actually read the book and are offended? 

Please. The world doesn't have so many readers. And we're talking about a Booker nominee here. 

But you know, I don't understand why I'm so surprised by the twenty years thing. We, as a nation, have never been able to let things go. We are stuck in history. Which is why Babri happened, and why we let 2000 year-old religions rule our politics today. It's why we still have a caste system, and why my mum would prefer me marrying a Mallu Christian even if I find that I get along better with a Bengali Hindu. No doubt, I'm mixing up things here. What I'm trying to say (badly) here, is that we should learn to let things go. 

Also, somebody should honestly ask the Indian government to look up secularism in the dictionary. 

One part of me is heartily sick of Bangalore and its lack of whatever other cities seem to have in plenty. And the other just wants to curl up in its cosy familiarity forever. #conflict

I think the problem is that I tend to write blog posts in my head all the time, so I have nothing left to say here. (It's also why I don't talk much. It's terribly dull to repeat the conversations you've already had in your head). 

We've drifted apart- Writing and I. And to think we used to be such great friends. (Have you noticed that it's only great friends who drift apart? Wait, does everyone know this already?)

But I have carefully avoided making any new year resolutions pertaining to writing on This Blog. So I might just end up writing again after all. The mind works in weird ways.