The Racsoes

It was Sunday evening, and I was practising the Art of Laziness (yes it is an art to let your posterior drown in the cushion of the sofa, while having a million thoughts rioting for attention).
Lo and behold! The Oscars were live on the tube, with the remarkable red carpet. I wonder if they reuse the same carpet every year. Some dry cleaner in southern California must be minting money brushing it up every year.
Watching the proverbial speeches unroll one after the other, it struck me that if so much is spent on celebrating what is observed to the best of the reel world, why not spare a thought to the best performers in the real world?

So I quickly made some phone calls, and established the Racso awards. The word "RACSO" stands for "Recognition of Achievements and Conquests of the Supreme Order". Contrary to what you may hear, the origin of this word is unrelated to the Oscars.

After 24 hours of intense nominations, sleepless lobbying and tense decisive moments, the Racso Foundation announced these awards:

Best Original Screenplay:Mr. Okabu !Xobile, Chairman - Somali Pirate Association, "The Hostage Drama"
Mr !Xobile from an unspecified location 50 miles from Mogadishu: "I would like to thank my fantastic colleagues who penned every move in our attacks, as well as our gallant hostages who shared our pain all the way. If not for their innocence, my origin as a goatherd would not have allowed me to have ten mansions, fifty cars and a hundred and one wives by now."

Best Visual Effects: Swami Nityananda, scandalised godman from Southern India.
An email received from hailthebaba@swamisrock.com confirms the Swami's feeling: "I am honoured with this award. I never imagined in my wildest beards that a spiritual journey to eroticism would be interpreted by the people in such a creative way. As my fathers used to say - keep the eye shut, and the world will shut its eyes for you. I love you, dads!"

Best Sound Mixing: Hey Man Al-Zawahri, Vice-President of the Oil Qayeeda Group, for his 156th audio tape released to the television channel All Jal Jeera.
"The world beware! My talent stands unparalleled. Like in the Shawshank Redemption, I can escape from anywhere. I go Where Eagles Dare and where Tomorrow Never Dies, so Catch me if You Can."

Best Short Film (Live Action): K. Chandrasekhara Row, Protagonist of the Telengana Hunger Strike that lasted 11 days.
Speaking from his air-conditioned luxury deluxe five-star hospital overlooking the beach, while sipping on a pina colada: "Many thanks to my fans for this award. I am touched that they have recognised my sacrifice for the new state. I wish I can continue to keep my fans happy with more hunger strikes and more states created in this great nation called India!"

Best Music (Original Song): Ex-Would-Have-Been Vice-President Sorry Palindrome, for her new self-recorded track "Empty Vessels".
Gushing with delight, she spoke to our correspondent from beside her fireplace in her Alaskan home, while the sun set over the Russian horizon: "It was a creative stroke of genius! I believe that all Americans, and the whole world, should take empty vessels, or even empty heads - as I did - and let their thoughts run wild. This is a free country and a free world, and as long as we have empty minds, we shall conquer all!"

Best Music (Original Score): Maoist leader Kissing Ji, for his self-composed new National Anthem - "*West or East, India is Maoist" for the India of 2050.
"This is a dream", he spoke from inside the janitor's closet in the Writer's Building in Kolkata, where he lives in disguise as a tea-serving peon, " to see this great country in my fist before I turn 157 in 2050. I am glad that Maoists in Nepal and China as well as my enlightened peace-loving fellow Indians have recognised the true value of this score, 40 years from now, when this will be played in every corner of this country."
Kissing Ji also rubbished claims that he composed the Score by lifting the core tune of a similar-sounding song from the renowned remixer Unknown Malik. "We have standards. We may kill people in the name of ideology, but we shall never kill music."

Best Makeup: Mr. Red Krsna Advani, Leader, the Indian People's Party, for his ability to disguise his shame and humiliation with old topics which everyone has forgotten long back.
Said he from under one of the Opposition benches in the Indian Lower House, as shoes and paper missiles flew over his head towards the Government benches: "Every day it takes me four hours to put this face on. The art of making a face up to show the masses that I still have some credibility left is difficult and tedious. But I am glad I received such an award. I will come by to receive it once I become the Prime Minister in a few years."

Best Foreign Language Film: Ex-President Bill Cling Ton for his audacious day in Pyongyang to rescue two American ladies jailed by North Korea.
Smirked Mr. President with a cigar in his mouth, while Kim Jong Il pulled a rabbit out of his own bushy hair behind him: "Aw, you know what? I like women, cigars and pizza - and ever since the wifey's been peace-mongering those bickering idiots in the middle East, it's been a bit lonely. So I thought I'll drop by and say hi to my old pal Kim. And look what I have landed here," he points to the two relieved women reporters.

Best Film Editing: Mr. Hamid Karzai, President of the Glorious Peaceful Nation of Afghanistan, for his classic doctoring of "Democratic Polls after The Taliban"
Adjusting his loosening turban, Mr Karzai stares into the camera and sends us this message - "In Afghanistan, we have peace and poppy seeds. Who wants more politics? My editing skills have always benefited this nation." In the background, one could hear the snippety-snip of the fractious politicians cutting away at each other.

Best Direction: The Raju Brothers for the gripping real-life crime drama - "Satyam: The Truth Prevails".
From their pest-free, air-conditioned cell in the Hyderabad Prison: "Thank you Mom and Dad. Thank you, thousands of Satyam employees, for trusting us through your doubts and allowing us to lead the firm down this path. But most of all, thank you Chandrababu Naidu - for without your guidance, we would not have been able hit such a jackpot so quickly!"

Best Costume Design: Mr. Nicolas Jacuzzi, President of France, for his exquisite piece - "Law to Ban The Inhuman Burka from French Public Places"
With a beaming smile and hands locked with his beau - the gorgeous Ms Bruno - Mr. Jacuzzi held the Racso in his other hand and said into the camera: "French women are beautiful and I don't get to appreciate the beauty of my country with this cloth blocking the view. I would like to thank all these women for giving me the chance to show the world that we French lead the way when it comes to freedom!"

Best Cinematography: The Dubai Government, for its breath-taking work in "The Assassination of Maha Mood All My Boo"
A report from the Dubai Home Ministry, which received ten Racsos for each of its technicians who maintained the closed circuit cameras, applauded the recognition and thanked Mossad, the Israeli intelligence agency, for handing such a wonderful opportunity to show the world that Dubai had a better Big-Brother system than the big daddy of them all in the UK.

Best Art Direction: Mr. Suresh Call Maddy, Head of the New Delhi Commonwealth Games Organising Committee
An unusually emotional Mr Call Maddy choked on his own beard and said - "I thank the Racso Foundation for recognising my race against time to transform this slumpolis into a state-of-the-art games city. My special thanks go to the thousands of ad-hoc labourers who chipped in at the last minute to help us finish the stadiums and attach doors to all lavatories in the city."

Best Actress in a Supporting Role: Ms. Rachel Uchitel, Honorary Mistress No. 1 of Tiger In the Woods
From the deck of a luxury yacht cruising in the Caribbean, Ms. Uchitel smiled at the camera while a certain famous golfer massaged her back, and spoke about her feelings - "I thank all the other Tigresses, err, I mean Tiger mistresses, for coming out of the closet later, and thus making me the most sought-after of them this winter. Ladies, I share this with you!"

Best Actress in a Leading Role: Ms. Mayawati, Part-time Illusionist and Chief Minister of the Northern Territory, India
Agreeing to speak to us for a moment out of her busy schedule, her hon'ble presence said - "I am thrilled to hold this little statuette in my hand, since all other statues of mine this year have been left incomplete. Here I am planning to erect everlasting symbols for the Dalit community, and look at what the courts are doing to this grand plan! I will not rest though, and I thank the 9000 farmers whose lands have been grabbed during my tenure, for funding this project!"

Best Actor in a Supporting Role: Mr. Balls Thackeray, Supremo of the Shove Sena, India, for his stellar performance in "The Royal Snub to the Cricketers from Across the Border"
At first refusing to accept the award because it's not named after a Maratha warrior, Mr Thackeray finally relented. From his mammoth terrace in Mumbai, he spoke to us while sipping on a glass of wine from the Hunter Valley in Australia - "I would like to thank all my Pakistani brothers. I would also like to thank all my North Indian countrymen. But special thanks go to Show Rookie Khan and SuchInnings Tondulkar. As long as I live, I will support Tondulkar's bid for the Bharat Rasna, and Khan's belief in his Khan-ness!"

Best Actor in a Leading Role: Mr. Ajmal Kasab, for his acclaimed performance in "How to Live in Luxury after Killing Innocents on Live Television"
Winning the much-competed category, Mr Kasab spoke through a translator as on this day, neither his English nor his Hindi were by his side - "I would have liked some Mutton Biriyani alongwith this trophy. But I am still delighted to win this trophy. Terrorism is an art, and I strive every day to prove to the world that regardless of religion or nationality, one can survive for so long in this industry. I thank the Indian judiciary for believing in my rights, and letting me eat off the same taxpayers whose families I murdered."

Best Picture: "The Hurt Onlooker", a scathing narrative of how innocent cows get blown to smithereens in bombing drills held by NATO.
In a press release by the esteemed organisation that runs some of the hottest wars (Afghanistan, Iraq, etc), the producers of the movie accepted this award and said - "We bow our head in humility in front of this great award. Our movie documents the effect of misdirected bombing on innocent people in those countries. Since we could not use real humans in the shooting, we decided to use good old cows. This way we ensured an accurate measurement of the collateral damage, since these cows and those people are not much different anyways for us. Such creative thinking and out-of-the-world vision has been recognised with this award, and we thank the Racso Foundation for this!"

The Racso awards were held remotely this year due to the enormous security threat involved in getting the winners together in the proposed venue in Antarctica, due to unanticipated protests from the natives there - the penguins. But I promise you that I shall lobby harder next year to roll out the red carpet for the nominees and the winners at a venue near to you!

The Brown Man's Burden

Just before the end of the ninteenth century, Rudyard Kipling penned a poem which is much lesser known than his legendary "If". This poem, originally intended to celebrate 75 years of the Victorian era, is titled "The White Man's Burden". In that insightful piece, Kipling laid bare the natural calling of the white race, to explore the world and to rule the lesser races, at the cost of its own peace and inner sanctum. Most critics of that age and this, rate that piece as a shining example of Kipling's disdain for all other races, even though he was born in dusty India. The legendary author carried that stigma with him even after he had gone back to the dust that he came from.

Ironically, just a little over a hundred years later, there's apparently a little storm raging in the teacup called Mumbai (most storms rage there nowadays). Nay! This storm has not been stirred by any Sena or any Khan, but by the ghost of Mr Kipling himself. The powers that be are toying with the idea of making a musem out of Kipling's infantile residence where he stayed till he was six. Some critics have panned this project, while some are considering it to be the final pardoning of Kipling by our magnanimous country.

But why am I telling you about something that you can read in a newspaper anyway?

The answer to that lies in the very phrase "The White Man's Burden". This phrase was the unspoken, redeeming motto of every imperialist that sailed out of Europe. The Portuguese, The French, the Spaniards, the Dutch and ofcourse, our favourite - the British, carried with them the innate sense of pride in bearing The White Man's Guilt. Thousands of them took on the stormy oceans and unknown worlds over hundreds of years in search of gold and greatness. Many of them had a one-way ticket to faraway lands, dying on the way from scurvy, pirates or mutiny. Many reached safe shores, but perished in battling hostile indigenous people. But those who survived and flourished on alien shores made the world smaller in countless ways. They went with the fear of falling off the face of the flat Earth, and collectively raised the flag of human adventure to a height where the benefits of modernisation and science benefited the rest of mankind. They sincerely believed that since they had the advantage of inventions and clever ideas on their side, it was their moral obligation to rule the savages, at the cost of their freedom and happiness.

No, this is not even an anthem to imperialism.

Today, on India's festival of colours, I would like to pay a tribute to the current tide that flows through each ocean - The Brown Man's Burden.

We, who come from the loins of the Indian landmass, are everywhere. Like unstoppable bullets, we have left the shores of the sub-continent and spread to every nook and cranny of the world. It's true that it started with pseudo-slaves being shipped off to the Caribbean and Africa. But in the twentieth century, it was the teeming mass of ambitious young men and women who went off out of their own volition. In just within a few decades, we have crossed all borders possible and been drenched in the rain from every sky on this planet. A survey last year revealed that there are registered Persons of Indian Origin (PIOs) in every inhabited nation in the world, including North Korea and Iceland.

Why is this significant?

There are three loads that have made us the new Atlas of the world, bearing the burden of this era.

The first load in the burden is the fact that we are the only civilisation that has a claim to ancient cultures and development, and which is now at the pinnacle of human advancement. The Incans vanished, the Mayans never got out of the central American jungles, the Egyptians went back to the shores of the Niles, the Romans and the Greeks fought so many wars that they eventually imploded, and the modern-day imperialists shut their shops and sailed back to their homes around the Prime Meridian. This leaves the Chinese, stuck in their stubborn view of Communism as the road to salvation and with a stranglehold on the world economy through a bullish grip on the throat of American consumerism. Inspite of their millions who struggle to make everything from mittens to motors, they will reach a bursting point in our lifetimes where their yoke on the world trade will become a flat curve. On the other hand, inspite of our own inner turmoil, we promote the equilibrium of a scientific temper and the chutzpah of capitalism in everything that we do. Whether I am a businessman in Guyana or a construction worker in Kuala Lumpur, a Nobel candidate in the US or a surgeon amputating limbs in Sierra Leone, this brown brain trains its grey cells to overcome its natural laziness and do better every single day.

Secondly, unlike our colonial predecessors, we are a peace-loving and a patient herd predominantly. Whether it has been inbuilt into our genes through years of being in the most difficult situations, is a theory up for debate. But the truth remains that we possess the capacity to laugh at every ourselves and at every bad card dealt to us. We may get beaten in Melbourne, but we will still continue to treat every Australian in India as an esteemed guest. We carry an unofficial burden of being the ambassador of "anything goes" throughout the world. Many of us cringe when we see our fellow countrymen behaving like idiots, but that still does not diminish the pride within us. What are we so proud of? Our uniquness, or our strangeness? The fact that we are still the flagbearer of mysticism in the world, or the fact that our collective IQ is higher than most races? Or the fact that most of us have infinite love for our parents, even when they are wrong? Or the fact that an India tabla player went to Afghanistan to perform and got blown to bits, when he had no real need to do so? Or the sight of multi-coloured faces on one day in spring every year when all virtual boundaries in life disappear in a country that is itself filled with racists? With a million questions, we doubt our own pride, and hear a hollow sound when we tap it. But it still continues to live, and that conflict is the burden.

The burden is complete with the third load - our own yearning to beat the adventurers at their own game. With millions inadequately fed and clothed, we are engaged in a race with our Chinese neighbours to reach the Moon, now that it's open for all. None of those imperialists achieved that, so there you go! The former USSR is dead, and even if the Americans wiggle their way out of their own problems now to refocus on the Moon, we would be having our fingers dirty in their pie as well. We will not rest in peace until we set foot on that soil.

This burden never let the white man rest in peace, and thus is the same story with us. We may think that we have crossed all limits of human glory, but for every one of us that is a tiny piece in this giant puzzle, the box is not yet quite ticked.

Either we carry this burden to Eternity, or we call it a day and hand it over to someone else. Who could that be?