✫•Clean this fucking Cuntry•✫ ⤠ Gandhi

Before I begin, I gotta tell you a tiny bit about maverick Prithvi. He’s bit of an idealistic whore like Gav & Gandhi [G&G] — but unlike Gandhi & I, he makes bangable gen.z. babes wet in their sweats.

Prithvi was in Delhi from Sydney for two crisp weeks after his grandma pulled the Amber Heard on him by saying she’s too goddamn old & might drop dead & depart Earth who knows when. So he stitched his ass to an aluminum-bird & flew to India, a cuntry famous for xeroxing Korean films & vagina whitening creams.

Saturday, 18^th June ’22 — Saket, New Delhi

Ol’ man & Prithvi are wandering the streets. As we walk out of a posh gated society, we climb onto a pedestrian bridge — it’s dirtier than Holy Ganga.

“This cuntry is a fucking gutter,” I spewed instantly —&— instantaneously recognized what a hypocrite, whinge-bag I’m — surely no better than all the entitled cunts I dream to choke.

Prithvi’s eyes met mine — words went quiet. In that silence, our hearts spoke decisively. We remembered Gandhi’s dope advice “Basterds, be the change you want to see in this cuntry.”

We, metaphorically, spat on our palms & shook hands to make a pact to clean this bloody bridge. Initially, the D-Day was Monday [27^th] — it got moved to Tuesday [procrastination & job interviews], then to Wednesday [more fuck ups]. Now we had just Thursday as Friday was off-limits as that’s when Prithvi was leaving for Sydney. Trouble-Alert! I was more sleep-deprived than a Polish hooker due to sub-par sleeps on Monday-&-Tuesday. I really wanted to get my 8-hour beauty sleep on Wednesday night. Alas! As the Bridge will be •flooded with humans• by 8am, I must get up at 4.45am, take the 5.45am Metro to Saket & start cleaning at Usain Bolt speed. Cleaning the Bridge on Thursday morning was too fucking inconvenient.

On Wednesday afternoon, I got on a call with Prithvi — I took a long pause & said, “Let’s do this damn thing on Thursday.” 

I also roped in Forrest Gump [Manisha] to shoot the damn thing. She’s the only human I knew who will wake at 4.45am to do this without asking for a stash of Hash-&-Cash.

Thursday, 30^th June ’22 — Saket Metro Station Pedestrian Bridge, New Delhi

We three stooges showed up at the bridge with gloves, dustpans, brooms, bin-bags, scrapers [khurpee] & DSLR. It was almost 7am, so we got down & dirty real quick. DSLR ran out of space in exactly 1 min 53 seconds. Manisha replaced the fancy DSLR with an almost fancy smartphone.

Khurpees were a godsend as most of the dirt was stuck to the stairs, like chewing gums on hairy bums. Though Prithvi & I had zilch experience, we rookies rapidly realized that cleaning bridges was a lot like suicide bombing — both jobs didn’t require prior experiences. It’s odd but what we thought would take minimum 3 hours took 1 hour 41 minutes.

Visibly we cleaned the fuck outta the bridge — made it prettier than poetry, but it was the invisible transformation that stayed with me. Prithvi put it precisely — We broke the class divide.

Though a lot of humans don’t have the balls to admit it, this cuntry has a beautiful class & caste distinction. People who clean dust-&-dirt are called charming names — Bhangi, Chamar, Chuhra, & [my fav] Achoot.

Hundreds of the lower-middle, middle, upper-middle & upper-class humans who crossed the bridge in those 101 minutes didn’t even acknowledge us once.

Contrarily, hundreds of lower-class walkers stopped for a moment to look at us — most were shy to say anything, but some said something kind before walking away feeling oddly happy. They were glad that the work “they” were chosen to do by “god” was afterall not all that awful —&— in fact, can be done by smiling middle & upper-middle-class idealistic whores. 

A lower-class lady looked at me & said softly, “Aap bahut achcha kaam kar rahe” (you’re doing wonderful work). I’m not the sentimental type—&— I’m equally indifferent to praise & criticism, but her simple yet genuine words evoked an emotion in me.

Days, weeks, years, decades we spend doing things that are thinly-veiled narcissistic pursuits of happiness & dreams. But •✫⤠If our dreams don't include creating happiness for people other than us & our loved ones then our dreams are worthless & our existence is an absolute waste•✫⤠

I spoke with Prithvi recently. Like always, the conversation was a mix of juicy & deep thoughts that revolved around the meaning of life & our dates with the girls we meet on dating sites. But there’s just one thing I recall from our 37-minute conversation — Prithvi said, ‘I often think about that morning we cleaned the bridge. It was a magical day.’

Those 101 minutes on the bridge have left me with a palpable feeling —not of elation— of gratefulness. I feel grateful that I could temporarily overcome inherent stupidity✫sloth✫smallmindedness to do something that had —even if fleetingly— true meaning.

We do so many things in life. And no matter how we convince ourselves, we do everything for selfish reasons. And within all those million acts of selfishness, there are a few that make the world a better place — even for a few seconds. It’s those rare acts of selfishness that we remember, that make us come alive — that make us not shoot ourselves in the midst of the autumn night.

In life, I’ve been in love & been bloody lucky to have been loved. And that morning while cleaning that bridge, I felt love. I didn’t feel I was a better man. I felt driven. I felt emotional. I felt I was exactly where I was meant to be.

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Full Disclosure: There was this tiny human-shaped portion of the bridge we didn’t clean. 

Why? 

An old man was sleeping there with such intensity that we felt it would surely be evil to wake him from his aesthetically explicit dreams.

P.S. For the record, Prithvi’s grandma is alive & kicking babies. I can’t wait till she Amber Heards him again to show up in this godforsaken cuntry yet again.

Breaking News: Grandma has successfully Ambered Prithvi again. He’ll be in India in January ‘23. I’m yet to re-visit the Saket bridge, but I know by January ’23, it will be dirtier than a Scandanavian teenager’s fantasies. And we will be back to shine it brighter than blood diamonds.