Hooray!! This is something I’ve been dying for ever since I started blogging. I got tagged for the FIRST TIME by none other than Mr ഞാന്‍; an ace-blogger-cum-friend whose Malayalam blog actually introduced me to the world of regional language bloggers!

Without further ado, lemme get on with the tag. This one’s about:

• Posting about 5 different characters you hate.
• And passing it onto five bloggers!

So here goes (not necessarily in the order of ‘hate’):

1. Snobs: Everytime I see a snob, I feel like blasting him/her off with a Grenade Launcher, la’ CS! Most snobs live in a fool’s paradise; they might’ve had some exquisitely-endearing face-off with something rewarding sometime in the course of their lives. It could be anything from a wild stroke of luck to sheer talent that they feel puts them in some unique league. It’s easy to identify a snob. They bear these Don’t-ever-talk-to-me, F**k-off attitudes 24×7. Another common trait among snobs is ‘English’. Yeah, they might be exponents in their mother-tongue, but whenever they converse, be it even to the lowest-common-denominator, you’d hear nothing but an appalling imitation of a New York accent! Most snobs tend to wear out their snobbish attitude once the stroke of luck/talent subsides; merely as part of survival instinct. (Hardcore ones still cling on even when they’re out of luck!) Well, once the tables turn in their favour again, they get back in action! Observation: Most snobs are girls!
2. Perverts: No one’s born pervert. Perverts simply choose to go the path destiny has chosen for them! C’mon, nobody’s perfect and everyone’s a pervert in his own infinitesimally-insignificant way; but still… hardcore perverts are a threat to humanity. The very thought of perversions brings perversive tendencies to my mind, and I desist from further perversions oops, descriptions about perverts!
3. Smokers/Inebriates: Ever since my dad, a once-upon-a-time chain smoker suffered a near nervous-breakdown in mid-2005, I vowed that I’d never EVER smoke/drink! A bad tiff with intoxicated seniors at college, and an exasperating face-off with a rather ‘candid’ drunkard on train remain firmly etched in my mind everytime some wayward friend offers me a quick ‘drink’! Not that I favour prohibition and stuff; it simply violates the democratic fabric of our country. People should be able to choose between what’s good or bad for them. I have lots of friends who smoke/drink, I have nothing against them personally when I say I ‘hate’ them; it’s just this burning sensation within, rooted from part-concern and part-outrage.
4. Backstabbers: These persons occupy the lowest and dingiest corners of my shit-list! Especially considering the fact that only a few hours ago, I was beguiled by a few guys who supposedly were my closest buddies . I have nothing against them, they might have their own reasons for outrageously kicking me out of what was OUR dream, but guys: you backstabbed me! The worst among backstabbers are your ‘best-friends’ who leave you when you’re desperately in their need!. In this dog-eat-dog world, it’s the survival of the fittest and some human beings would go unto any levels for survival! Someday, all those backstabbers out there will realize that what goes around comes around…
   
5. Show-offs: Show-offs are pretty harmless. Well, if you’re not a person drawn to manic levels of psychosomatic aggression at being subject to the most atrocious of situations; you’d concur too! Be it anything from a flashy Cellular Phone, to a newly acquired piece-of-gossip; show offs simply shout it all out loud. Showing oneself off comes from the gut-urge to establish superiority by flaunting material (or other) possessions. But if the ostentatious display crosses its limit there’s a chance that the whole effort put into the planned sequence might cause adverse reactions. Here’s a real-life story:

There’s this Fruit-wholesaler at my Mom’s native place. He’s essentially a Tamil Nadar, and runs a not-exactly-profitable business. He owns three shops and two second-hand lorries. This guy’s of the same age as my mom and was her classmate at school. One fine morn, Grandfather and I make a quick visit to his place to run some urgent errand. We’re ushered in by the man, beckoning us to help ourselves in the big out-of-place sofas, while strolling airily in his drawing room. He was talking to his Nokia N73 Music Edition in rapid-fire tamil. The man was probably in line to be the first male model for the World Gold Council, with all the ten rings in his fingers and a flashy chain. He’s like:
“Dai, Muthuchaamy! Oru 8 laksham yen account ninne eduthu avanu kondungo! Namukku top-class Lorry pothum, purinjitha?”
Exasperated, we sit idly sifting through the papers for minutes on end. Which was when a “Nokia Tune”, broke in. I checked my phone, it was silent. Grandfather didn’t have a mobile, then whose could it be? Meanwhile, Mr Nadar was walking criss-cross across his room; his ringing phone clutched to his left ear. Nadar was still shouting out orders to an imaginary Muthuchaamy, not realizing that it was his own phone that was ringing! And the dumbass was still trying to show his bloody oversized a** off! I could help burst out laughing, at which he realized his folly and smiled sheepishly at us! )

And I’m tagging Sindhya Chechi,
Vidya Chechi, Abhijith, Sreejith Ettan & Miss Small Wonder.

Rafeeq was the quintessential happy-go-lucky kid. Born to lower-middle-class parents as the youngest among six siblings in the bustling town of Kozhikkode, Kerala, he was the loved by everybody. Well, the happy-go-lucky tag lasted only until his dad died in a nasty motor accident, that is. The family which depended on the devout father’s meager monthly salary was crippled financially. Following the path of his elder brother Usmaan, Rafeeq dropped out of school and joined as a baker’s help. Enterprising that he was, Rafeeq literally burned the midnight oil. Thanks to his exquisite cakes and halwas, the bakery grew in reputation. By the time Rafeeq was twenty, the owner, a friend of his father’s, promoted him to a managerial post in the flourishing bakery realizing his sharp acumen and camaraderie with customers that far surpassed his cooking skills. Meanwhile, Rafeeq’s brother managed a Visa to Bahrain. He too began sending back money within three months of his departure. The family was tiding over its financial crises, and had married off Mubeena, Rafeeq’s eldest sister, to a Gulf-Employee.

It was around that time that computers invaded Kerala. It was the heyday of the first computer boom, and Internet Cafes that sprouted in every nook and corner were raking in big money selling inexpensive Internet porn. A clairvoyant Rafeeq was quick to identify the enormous financial prospect of a computer centre. He taught himself vital computer skills using the computer Usmaan had sent back home along with a mélange of consumer goods. Within a month, he’d become a pro, in a hugely overstated way, so to speak. With generous help from Usmaan and a bank loan of Rs 300,000, Rafeeq opened his aesthetically-designed Internet Café near ‘Mithaai theruvu’, at the heart of Kozhikkode town. Rafeeq had fifteen PIII machines (which was the best you could get in early 2001) wired to the net by an Asianet Dataline ‘Broadband’ connection; stuffed into a 600-sq-feet room in a make-shift shopping complex. Thanks to his tacit advertisements about the immense voyeuristic possibilities of the net, Rafeeq’s café was fully occupied all the time. His wily staff unabashedly encouraged porn by copying porn movies rather indiscreetly onto the computers! Though he knew what he did was morally wrong by Islamic tradition, Rafeeq had to do it to ensure financial security for his family and a good husband for another sister Sajna.

DTP was another specialty of Rafeeq’s café. He himself saw to it that the job done was perfect down to the last full stop, with attractive font-facing. The smart, Photoshopped notices, brochures and invitation cards regularly churned out by his café saw more customers flocking his office. Rafeeq was a happy man, only until a couple of teenagers walked into his shop, asking him for a quick print out. Their demand puzzled him. All he had to do is to print out two book shaped sets, with SSLC marks of the two kids, photos and names, which they provided. He was even given a copy of another book as a sample, and was asked to make sure the print out was identical to the sample. Before he could say anything, the boys kept a couple of five hundred rupee notes on his table and left, muttering that it’s pretty urgent and that they’ll be back in a couple of hours. Dismissing them as nutcracks, Rafeeq readied the matter and made sure that the couple of print-outs looked identical to their master copy. It looked like a mark-list or something to Rafeeq. The kids must be intelligent, after all, because they had scored humungous marks in all the exams. Within hours, the kids where back; and they left with their neatly bound copies, profusely thanking Rafeeq.

A month later, a burly looking man in Police uniform barged into Rafeeq’s café. Rafeeq rightly identified him as Mr. Gopinathan, IPS. The new Superintendent of Police. He was a man Rafeeq held in high regard. The stories of his escapades and encounters were widely publicized by the media. Ergo, he was respected and honoured by one and all. Dutifully offering a cozy seat and a hot cup of tea to the tall, well-built man, Rafeeq politely inquired if he could be of any help. Visibly taken aback by the hospitality of the man he’d come to arrest, Gopinathan fished out two print outs which Rafeeq identified as the ones he’d done. In a bid to help out the Police officer in his supposed investigation, he even showed soft copies of the print outs in MS Word for authentication. Torn between exasperation and pity for the haplessly-candid guy, Mr Gopinathan managed the politest tone his position could offer, explaining Rafeeq that he’d done a cognizable offence which could give him a jail term of over three years. Rafeeq, with his penchant for perfection, had actually forged two SSLC books unknowingly!

Image Courtesy: http://www.cbsnews.com/

The crowd that gathered around the café saw a dumbfound, tearful Rafeeq incessantly claiming his innocence, perched onto the rear seat of the Police Jeep, clutching an unwieldy PC Cabinet. The police discovered porn CDs stashed away in a shelf, not to mention gigabytes of porn in the hard-discs of the fifteen old computers. He was booked in three cases, including one on “Indecent representation of women”, due to which he couldn’t get bail and was remanded for over a month. A pertinacious, two-year long trial later, Rafeeq was awarded a two year jail term and a fifty thousand rupee fine, all amid media-inflicted ignominy. News channels did live shows ‘celebrating’ the first ‘Cyber crime’ of the state. None, not even his Gulf-prospered brother; cared to pay the fine for him for fear of ‘image-loss’, accruing his sentence by a year. A firm-believer in Allah and human-affection, the once-happy-go-lucky, apple-of-eye kid saw his life collapse before him!

Today, Rafeeq has made Beemapalli, Trivandrum (the de-facto home of piracy in kerala) his home. He’s the biggest dealer of illegal CDs and DVDs in Trivandrum. Known to be a master forger, his degree-certificates and passports beat the original in panache. He rakes in more than a couple of crores a year from his thriving business and travels in a Skoda Octavia. He harbors a steady hate for the system, ever since his release three years back, and would go unto any lengths to cripple it, the way it tore his life apart!

Moral of the story:
Legal literacy, anyone?

="MsoNormal">The final word:
Based on a true story narrated to me by an IPS officer, when I’d visited him in regards with the investigation of a cyber crime offence. Parts of the story and names are fictional for anonymity’s sake.