|Picture courtesy Outlook Magazine|
Far from encouraging my friendly spirit, I get a rap on my knuckles AGAIN. I am no stranger to getting rapped. I had a simple dream of getting rid of worms, not from me silly, from brinjals. And look what they did? They accused me of being a Monsanto agent! I will not listen to you, you- badly- in- need- of- genetic- modification nincompoops!
Nobody listens to me anymore. I block environmentally hazardous projects, am summoned by holy cow and asked to shut up. Am ashamed to admit, but I scribbled, “I hate Kamalnath” all over my writing pad. It felt good. It also felt good to take off that awfully stuffy convocation cloak. I hate black, imagine in that heat, my long flowy hair and on top of that the sack like thing. All I did was disrobe myself.....Nobody understands me anymore.
Agreed I get a tad overemotional especially when I am in China. If they can do it, why can’t we? Was I in the wrong when I said, we will match you in emissions cuts? Granted I should have done a bit of homework (was never good at it), but doesn’t mean you haul me up. I run from pillar to post lobbying for the Nobel Prize and I get accused of suffering from foot in mouth syndrome. Funny, I thought only Baba Ramdev could do it. I just said, “if there’s a Nobel Prize for dirt and filth, India will win it”. I was sent a stinker.
I feel too full now, I have been made to eat to many of my words. Main chup rahoongee or is it rahoongaa. Damn Hindi, I can never get the gender right.
I think I will stick to exchanging tweet nothings with you know who, Tharoor. Just got a message from him, it says, welcome to the club. Wonder what he meant by that.