The Moronic Affliction

The world is filled with Atoms, Neutrons, Protons and Morons (well not quite original, but hey, if the shoe fits the feet then why bother). They wouldn’t realise they are one, even if it hits me them in the face (thank you Dr Amy Farah Fowler for this one). You just nudge, reach out and you could come in contact with one. They would probably take offence of you touching them, especially when traveling in a train that’s packed like a can of sardines, creating a ruckus as if you’ve violated their modesty. If this was the case  why did they choose travel by a train at the peak hour, take a cab instead, or why don’t they get a car.

They love to jay walk, even when there’s a proper pavement available (which unfortunately is a rare case). On a road that’s already in shambles, thanks to the metro, incessant digging, paver blocks (you take your pick). They insist on walking on the road, and no amount of honking would get them to budge. Makes you want to exclaim why the fuck (LANGUAGE!!!) are you walking on the road instead of the pavement. And if they respond means they’ve heard you, so why the fuck (LANGUAGE!!!) Are they still walking on the road??? God only knows, or their moronic mind.

In a office filled with meeting rooms and desk phones, they insist on using Skype with their hands free, and not their headsets, speaking in a loud annoying voice, effectively letting the entire office their invoices, allocations, entry, in short the whole office knows what they are doing. No amount of request, warning, annoying glances, and even posters (in all language) would pipe them down. They give you a stare, totally offended by you. If you think you had it bad, the poor people, who had the unfortunate fortune of sitting around him, seem to give out a distress call, a plea, koi hume iss moron say bachao.

If he wasn’t enough, you have the jaga maga (as we like to refer to them) who insist on gossiping in their shrill cranky voices about everything under the sun, right from their children’s studies, their sasoo maas, the latest recipes, or how to improve upon a recipe, latest designs, the latest salwar suits they stitched. In short sharing information you shouldn’t be privy of, you really don’t want to be part of but still you’ve got no option but to listen cause they can effectively drown out a crowd. 

Then you have those who call you up enquiring about a marathon when it’s just a training run. Even though they are disappointed to learn that there’s no prize, they still enquire if there will be bibs, medals and tees and how would this would be done. All this needs to be done in Hindi which this poor maca pav can’t speak to save his life. Makes you want to bang your head against the wall,  cause let’s face it, to make sense, ye un say na ho payenga.

They’ll come to the park in the cars and two wheeler ( and I say two wheelers I am not referring to cyclists, who would in fact we welcome). But the come and drive in speed, almost knocking poor souls who are out to train or just there for their morning walks. In fact they themselves could with a bit of walking, if they would just get their fat, lazy arse to move.

And on a dating app, where you clearly mentioned no nudes and privates on your profile, you still have those who will send you just that, asking for your bare chest pics, nude pics, dick pics, butt pics. Damn when did likes and preferences turned into something sexual (or am I just being dumb naive). So often you’ve got to pimp your self to morons. But hey there’s enough material on this for another blog. 

Then you have those who think their horns are the most melodious sound you’ll ever hear in the whole world. The bad part of it is they’ll never keep it to themselves. This probably the only time when sharing  didn’t mean caring. So they’ll blare their horns for all to hear, till ears to bleed.

And these are just the tip of the iceberg, and it was the iceberg that sunk the Titanic (and I have no idea why I used that out here). You could fit them all in one big universe, making a universe all their own, moronasia. Maybe then we’ll be saved from the moronic affliction.