On the PMK's Pondhpaka Mi Korchhi

Gandhi is not the Prince of Peace & Non-Violence.

That is Jesus Christ.

Gandhi is actually the Patron of State Violence Against Alcohol.

And it is fitting that from tomorrow, which is Gandhi’s birthday, he becomes the Patron of State Violence Against Smokers.

However, I have my doubts about the ability of our The State to effectively impose the ban on smoking in private spaces.

Repeat: Private spaces.

We are allowed to smoke on our pot-holed streets – which belong to The State and are thus public property.

We are not allowed to smoke in offices, bars and restaurants, all of which belong to private people, and are thus Private Property.

Technically, The State should not be allowed to poke its long Pinocchio nose into private property. So the supreme court is just an arm of The State. The judges are not defenders of individual rights and private property. They are part of the organized senseless violence that characterizes our The State.

Yet, as I just said, I have my doubts about the ability of our The State to effectively impose the ban on smoking in private spaces.

Some good news has just come in from Hyderabad, capital of Andhra Pradesh, where tobacco is grown. The news has it that the government there is going to go slow on enforcing the diktat of our Health Dictator, mr. ramadoss, of the PMK Party.

I am told that in Bengali PMK stands for Pondhpaka Mi Korchhi. I am sure that in West Bengal too this ban will not be enforced at all – because the Bengalis are big smokers and do not take kindly to Pondhpaka Mi Korchhi activism.

So I am confident that ramadoss’ dictatorship will collapse.

I recall another time, some years back, when the supreme court banned smoking in trains and railway stations. I was traveling by train from Mangalore to Poona, all along the Western Ghats, and when the train stopped at some obscure station I got off to enjoy a smoke on the platform.

Immediately a burly cop accosted me muttering something or the other about our supreme court.

I raised by voice to its Most Thunderous Level and told the feller to F O! That’s it, dude, F O.

I told him to go after rapists, murderers and thieves – and leave me alone.

He left.

Some hours later, the train stopped at another obscure station and I stepped out once again for a smoke.

This time, one of my fellow passengers also alighted and lit up a cigarette.

Then, looking at me smoking he said, in a conspiratorial aside, “If the policeman comes, you tell him to F O.”

I politely declined.

I told the man, “I fought for my Freedom; now you must fight for yours.”

I am still fighting for my Freedom today.

Are you?