Buggering the Virgins….

The Virgins are here. Finally.
But I wish they weren’t. Not here. Not anywhere.
It’s time we sacrificed these Virgins at the altar of Anger.
Citing very valid reasons of good taste and everything good about comics.
Sadhu. Devi. Snake woman. The first taste of these left a very bad taste in the mouth.
Too soon to tell?
Too soon to be titillating?
Too soon to tell that it’s a pathetic, puerile bastardisation of myths?
Too soon to tell this feels like it’s going to be a parade of clichés?
Too soon to tell that most of these clichés will be overlaid with bad art?
And printed on toilet paper….bad toilet paper, in a neighbourhood colour Xerox machine.
Too soon to tell?
Maybe…but…
Who needs second-hand Virgins anyway?

So should you buy these Virgins?
Yes. I say.
Go ahead. Buy them. Buy them!
But then, it’s just my sadistic streak talking.
Buy them.
Because misery seeks company.
Buy them. Read them.
So you too can see what they mean when they say “Indian”.
Buy them. So you can burn them.

So will I buy them?
Yes. I will.
Because a hundred rupees is too small a price to pay for a good laugh.
Even though it hurts.
I will buy them.
So I can see my theories affirmed.
And because venom needs a target.
Will I burn them? Or consign this trash to trash?
No.
Because one needs to keep a record of ‘things wrong with the world’.
And having proof helps.

Maybe it’s time to take Laal Khopdi seriously and bring him to life…