Halo

During most of my schooling my dad served in the "fauj". That's Indian speak for the Army. Capital A bitches. Artillery, Gunner and proud of it. If you don't get it, too bad.

He was part of the force that put an end to to the Sikh separatist movement. He had an AK-47 put to his chest because an overstressed idiot wanted 2 weeks of leave.

When I was 7 years old, me and mum moved to the-then pensioners' paradise Bangalore, India because Dad had been posted to the out of control Pakistan-India border. "Non-family station" - the posting was called.

He would call, once a week - Saturday 9 PM IST, at first to a pay phone 2 blocks down our house. Then, when our neighbor finally got a phone 9 years after the first application (fuck you Soviet inspired socialism), he would call there. Yes, that was life. I'd wait a week, to know if my Dad was alive.

In the meantime, life was about visiting temples, old sages and married couples, blessings from holy men and priests to keep the family safe. Fuck god. Fuck all that.

Do you know what its like to spend a week wondering if your father is alive? Multiply that by 5 years. That's equal to fuck god.

god didnt matter. The phone did.

So when you say fuck India, you're saying "fuck your childhood that you missed because your parents chose to protect your borders".  You're implying "fuck all the hours you spent alone tossing a tennis ball in the air because we're dissing the culture based on a few blogs that are no indication of the sacrifices the nation has made".

That's me. A well educated man, living a reasonably privileged lifestyle, hailing from a country of billions - with a history older than the written word. And you choose to disrespect everything my culture, my country and my civilization has achieved because you need a passionate story about divorced parents.

Congrats for being the echelon of evolution. Hope you have blast up there.