This episode was written on the day of the attack on Salman Rushdie and the title bears tribute to his book. We wish Mr. Rushdie a speedy recovery and hope he writes more books worth banning in the more regressive parts of the world.
There is only one thing that is more stupid
than people who unwittingly do not follow the law. And that is people who
wittingly follow the law. At this time, there were two doors in our apartment.
One on the north-south wall, and another on the east-west wall. And my family
had moved to disagreeing about more meaningful things in life like furniture
and why my Mom should decide the furniture for me. It was the same reason as
why my Mom should decide my wife for me. And it was equally stupid.
As I was following the peaceful process of
Gandhian disagreement that morning, the head laborer called me and said that he
had been stopped from entering the building. Because there were two doors to
the apartment which the building “society” had objected to. Now there were many
different thoughts that came to me when this happened. (1) Who be this
“society” that my labor speaks of? (2) Why would they have a problem if I had
two doors to my apartment? (3) If they did have a problem, why didn’t they
contact me first instead of suddenly stopping the laborers from entering? (4) Could they stop the laborers from
entering? And most importantly, (5) if they stopped the laborers from entering
the building, who the fuck would seal up the door they were objecting to in the
first place?
It took my about 10 seconds to process
these thoughts in my head. I spent the next 10 telling my laborer to go in
anyway and continue the work. But he said he was not being allowed to go in. I
asked if he was being physically blocked. And then he spent the next 10 seconds
processing the answer. He replied in affirmative. Now I had laborers standing
outside the door of the building, not being able to enter. It was time for my
fat ass to leave the couch and walk for myself. I would trample the goons who
stopped my men, MY MEN, from entering the building.
20 minutes later, I completed my breakfast
and went to the new building. Where the building security guards were not
allowing my laborers to go in. By “not allowing”, they meant they were not
taking their usual entry time and signatures at the entrance gate. Which my
hard-working laborers took to mean that they could not go in. Because a figure
of authority in a uniform had said so. So first I reminded the laborers who is
paying them. And told them to march off to the apartment and continue the work.
Next I enquired from the security guards who is paying THEM. And asked them to
be presented before me. Which of course they didn’t.
But my laborers were in. And my work was being done. So all seemed to be in balance with the world. The security guards said that they would be in trouble by the “committee” of the building. I asked who this “committee” was and if they could speak to me in-person. The guards told me that the sacred “committee” held mass every Sunday at 10:00 AM and I could meet them then. But the committee had decided to stop my laborers from entering the building without the occurrence of a Sunday. It must have been divine intervention. Scolding the guards, I went on my way. Thinking that I had won the war. Little did I know, the battle was only beginning.
The next day my laborers called me again
that they were being held at the building gate. I told them to go in anyway.
But they said that they were being held physically this time. I sighed. A glass
of chocolate milkshake and 30 minutes later, I was at the new building again.
It was true. The guards were blockading my laborers physically this time. They
were courteous enough to allow me in. Once in, I scolded the guards again. And
moved my laborers in again. When the guards told me that they got a hefty
scolding from the “committee” yesterday. And they were only doing what was
being instructed to them. I asked the guards to either talk to me, or bring
before someone who could take decisions. If I was going to waste my time with
someone who only responded in “that is my instruction” and deferred decision
making, I’d rather have it in a courtroom so someone could at least make money
out of it. I wasn’t going to sit around watching my laborers earn a daily wage
simply because a bunch of security guards were instructed to stop my laborers.
And none of these wise-assed “committee” people would meet me directly.
“I am Groot,” the gentleman before
me introduced himself.
Someone from the “committee” had finally
appeared to “sort out the issue”. What had happened was that since we had made
two doors in the apartment, several people in the building had objected. Simply
because what goes on in my flat, which was not adjacent to or overlooking ANY
other flat, nor shared a wall or a lobby with ANYONE, was still somehow
EVERYONE’s business. And since they had objected to the committee, the
committee had thought it fine to block my laborers. Because that is how
problems are solved.
“I am Groot.” Groot had said that he was
the designated person of the committee to sort out disputes amicably. He
understood that we are a family like him, and no one wants any bother from
anyone and everyone simply wants to live a peaceful life. The committee had
objected to there being two doors as it was against the committee rules. We
told Mr. Groot that the committee did not have the power to decide where the
gate to our apartment would be. And in case the committee had a legitimate
reason to not allow the two doors, we will gladly close off the original gate.
But there has to be a legitimate reason. Mr. Groot didn’t seem to understand
the words “legitimate” or “reason”. In fact, I suspected that his vocabulary was
be very limited.
“I am Groot.” We spoke to Mr. Groot for
about an hour. Mostly, he seemed to be repeating what he had already said. And
we agreed that let us meet the committee in the meeting on Sunday, and if then
the we decide if to keep only one gate, we would close off one gate. But we had
already said that before. We asked Mr. Groot whether that was acceptable.
“I am Groot,” he replied.
