377.

Homophobic, I'm certainly not. I have nothing against homosexuals. In fact, I feel more of them among us would put a natural brake on the brainless, breathless breeding that's putting a lot of strain on Mother Earth's bounty. The HIV epidemic to which, from all available evidence, they seem to have made no mean a contribution too is known to slow down popularion growth in the sub-Sahara region of Africa. http://tinyurl.com/6f4kpg. Not only should the gays be allowed to crawl out of their closets, but they should also be allowed to live like the so-called normal folks: marry, raise families and all the rest. I'm all for Ellen DeGeneres, 50, tying the knot with her 35-year -old Australian steady. http://tinyurl.com/5vomt7. But I'm more than a bit cheesed off by glorified darzis and their fawning Queen Bee and assorted celebrity clients flaunting it like the eighth wonder on Page Three. http://tinyurl.com/6nlslj (please search for the 18 August 2008 issue after the page loads, then click on the title of the article ). Suddenly, these half firangis who spend the better half of their lives flying to London for shopping, if nothing else, have stumbled upon the imperious imperialistic injustice of Section 377 of the Indian Penal Code imposed on us by the bloody Brits. Dr Anbumani Ramdoss who used to be a figure of ridicule till the other day http://tinyurl.com/6pffpw & http://tinyurl.com/5guqx9 is now their bosom buddy, nay a virtual soul mate. Bah! The hypocrisy of it all disgusts me.

The Red Book.

I wish I could tell you with a straight face that I learned the story of The Ramayana from my father and mother or by listening to kirtans or by watching Ramleela. It simply won't be the truth. And, although I haven't sworn with my right hand on the Bhagwatgeeta that whatever I write here will be the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, I just cannot bring myself to lie to you so early in the game. So, I shall stick to the truth. In the bottom part of a book cabinet in my childhood home in Khetwadi, there was lurking a 12" by 7" hardbound red volume. It was waiting for me to discover it, I guess. In this priceless tome was the story of The Ramayana retold in a series of four colour pictures (one on every glossy page, back to back) drawn by someone who seemed to have learned the craft at the feet of Raja Rammohan Roy. The story started with King Dashratha's Putrakameshti Yagna (the fire sacrifice for progeny) and ended with Rama, Laxman and Sita's return from vanavasa (banishment to the forest). I read it so often and handled it so roughly that my red book got tattered in a few years. I cannot recall where it finally vanished. (Maybe, Mother Earth opened up and swallowed it like she did Sita.) I wish I had the sense to handle it with kid gloves. Had I done so, Aditi, Avantika, Armaan and Anika could have enjoyed it as much as I did. I shudder to see them reading the atrociously illustrated and slovenly written Amar Chitra Katha comic books and have a secret Fahrenheit 451 fantasy about the monstrosities.