In my class section in high school, there was a group of boys who weren’t particularly good at anything - not academics, sports, music, looks, not even cracking a decent joke or spinning a convincing yarn.
Yet, they were united by one habit: Booing anyone and everyone who, in their view, dared to step out of line.
Many of them were Boy Scouts as well, though not everyone. Told early on that they are a chip above the rest, with badges to proved it, they had an innate belief that they could lecture anyone. Same with delivering condescending comments to outright insults all in the name of greater good, and playing the victims when the tables turned. A trait many carried into adulthood, and by all evidence it still hasn't eroded for some now in their 50s.
Many of them were Boy Scouts as well, though not everyone. Told early on that they are a chip above the rest, with badges to proved it, they had an innate belief that they could lecture anyone. Same with delivering condescending comments to outright insults all in the name of greater good, and playing the victims when the tables turned. A trait many carried into adulthood, and by all evidence it still hasn't eroded for some now in their 50s.
Though the two of the worst offenders were not scouts, they just played the role of being too cool to be a part of anything except Booing Cheerleaders.
With my outspokenness, sometimes unusual and often outlandish questions and ideas, I was a regular target.
With my outspokenness, sometimes unusual and often outlandish questions and ideas, I was a regular target.
But, was there malice or serious bullying?
Not really !
It was just their way of enforcing a social hierarchy built on colourless mediocrity. I christened them the “Down Diya Brigade” - Down Diya in the modern Assamese-English lexicon meaning pulling someone down.
Years passed. Some drifted into lower to middle-rung bureaucracy, others into business. A couple already drank themselves to death in their forties.
Not really !
It was just their way of enforcing a social hierarchy built on colourless mediocrity. I christened them the “Down Diya Brigade” - Down Diya in the modern Assamese-English lexicon meaning pulling someone down.
Years passed. Some drifted into lower to middle-rung bureaucracy, others into business. A couple already drank themselves to death in their forties.
Never the one to keep in touch with “fellow inmates” - I stayed connected with very few.
Then one day, someone posted my photo in the class Facebook group. One of the Brigade’s louder cheerleaders, a former Scout naturally, resurfaced and commented, “fat as a pig, ready for slaughter.”
The reply was swift. Not the scorched-earth version people usually accuse me of - I left out the brutal bits about his own appearance and that of his family, some things are best left unsaid - but the point landed.
Then one day, someone posted my photo in the class Facebook group. One of the Brigade’s louder cheerleaders, a former Scout naturally, resurfaced and commented, “fat as a pig, ready for slaughter.”
The reply was swift. Not the scorched-earth version people usually accuse me of - I left out the brutal bits about his own appearance and that of his family, some things are best left unsaid - but the point landed.
To the silent spectators, of course, I was once again “angry and overreacting” as always.
Coming to the present. A friend from my old stadium days calls. There’s a party interested in bidding for a ₹15–20 Cr government tender. They have money and political proximity to the minister involved, but no technical qualifications or track record. Could I connect them with a legitimate partner?
Coming to the present. A friend from my old stadium days calls. There’s a party interested in bidding for a ₹15–20 Cr government tender. They have money and political proximity to the minister involved, but no technical qualifications or track record. Could I connect them with a legitimate partner?
Naturally, he gets a cut.
I so happened that, I had a client who fit the bill, but they made it clear they would proceed only if I led the project. So we had a first meeting with his chaps, then a second with my client. In both, my “friend” took it upon himself to extol our long friendship and praise my deep knowledge of boats and rivers. But each time, he also wrapped up by laughing and calling me a complete crack(pot)...
Was he trying to be funny? Still playing the old dominance game? Or just too thick to grasp that calling the key person in a potential ₹20 Cr project a nutcase is not exactly confidence-inspiring?
Then again, it’s typical behaviour in this part of the world, especially here in Assam.
They want your work, your knowledge, your contacts - preferably all for free, or in exchange for vague promises.
And yet, they’ll still begin the conversation by shaming your body and end it by questioning your sanity.
I kept my assessment of his behaviour to myself, concluding, “What else to expect from Moose?” Yes, the same Moose from Archie comics - though he preferred being likened to Arnold - muscleman, terminator.
I so happened that, I had a client who fit the bill, but they made it clear they would proceed only if I led the project. So we had a first meeting with his chaps, then a second with my client. In both, my “friend” took it upon himself to extol our long friendship and praise my deep knowledge of boats and rivers. But each time, he also wrapped up by laughing and calling me a complete crack(pot)...
Was he trying to be funny? Still playing the old dominance game? Or just too thick to grasp that calling the key person in a potential ₹20 Cr project a nutcase is not exactly confidence-inspiring?
Then again, it’s typical behaviour in this part of the world, especially here in Assam.
They want your work, your knowledge, your contacts - preferably all for free, or in exchange for vague promises.
And yet, they’ll still begin the conversation by shaming your body and end it by questioning your sanity.
I kept my assessment of his behaviour to myself, concluding, “What else to expect from Moose?” Yes, the same Moose from Archie comics - though he preferred being likened to Arnold - muscleman, terminator.
The Maa Kali Dal, my name for Moose’s party, arrived ready with a list of polite demands - details of my client’s past work orders, concept notes, technical specs for a new tender, river inspections. Everything they could think of, except discussing my terms of engagement or professional fees. Unsurprisingly, once they realised I wasn’t available for free service, they vanished.
And I doubt being introduced as a crank had any bearing on that.
Even shrugging shoulders and saying “C’est la vie” doesn’t apply.
It’s something more basic - insidious, outlandish, idiotic, or just characteristically Oxomiya.
Because out here, anyone who is talented, hardworking, artistic, honest, purpose-driven, original, visionary, or simply fearless is dismissed with one word - “Pagol..!”
Joi Ai Oxom… (Oh yes, the grammar is broken in this phrase too, just like most things around).
Even shrugging shoulders and saying “C’est la vie” doesn’t apply.
It’s something more basic - insidious, outlandish, idiotic, or just characteristically Oxomiya.
Because out here, anyone who is talented, hardworking, artistic, honest, purpose-driven, original, visionary, or simply fearless is dismissed with one word - “Pagol..!”
Joi Ai Oxom… (Oh yes, the grammar is broken in this phrase too, just like most things around).
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