Say it twice to get the right size

As a nation, we are obsessed with size. It is not enough for us to say ‘big’, we must underscore it by saying: ‘big big’. Everything we see around, has to be measured. Weighed. Quantified. Everything we cannot see around us, has to be made to look grander than our imagination. Bigger. Fatter. Thicker. Fuller. Yes, I know just exactly how your minds are working.

I am actually talking about walls. Yesterday, I read about a comment from someone very powerful and presumably very knowledgable about 13-ft high and five-ft thick walls protecting our Aadhaar data. That is wider than many of our city roads. Bigger than some Mumbai rooms where three generations of people fit in. And it has a super brain that knows everything about me. 

Yes, it can even tell you when I swiped my card on a secret date and ordered a bottle of Shiraz. I felt very safe indeed. So safe that days of insomnia just disappeared at the thought and I slept like a baby.

Earlier someone very powerful made another comment about women’s breasts looking like sliced watermelons. Notice how he did not talk about a smaller fruit – no apples, oranges, or even pomello. He had to compare breasts with the super-sized cannonballs of the summer fruit family. Because, effect. It was so comforting to know that such big big men look at our bodies and think of a fruit basket.

In any case, for the past two decades or more, we have been growing vegetables that are four times their normal size. Have you seen the cauliflowers and the broccoli of late? Or even brinjals for that matter? You can actually smash someone’s skull with the cucumbers and the strawberries look as though they have been pumping iron with Tiger Shroff. Besides, they are supposed to aphrodisiacs, remember? 

We are making tall-tall statues – nearly 799 ft high and tall-tall buildings – 100 storeys and more. And we make tall-tall claims. Our hot-hot women always eyeing the guys in the big-big cars zooming down the small-small roads.

We spent days debating how a 5.5ft tall woman could drown in a 32-inch bath tub. Especially since she was a ‘big’ woman. And several people tried to dramatically recreate the tragic events. It was with as much enthusiasm that we tried to ascertain the size of a certain Modi’s diamonds and the weight of a certain Mrs Kohli’s lehenga. You see, to impress an average Indian, you need to make it big, fat and expensive.

The same people go ga ga over a fading star who walked out of prison one day, rolled up his ganji to show the world: I got six at 56, what about you?

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