The Horny Indian
What is it with Indians and their raging car horns? Across the country, drivers get more sadistic joy out of pressing the beeping button than any other pleasure-seeking activity. Yes, yes, even that. I mean, just go to a traffic light which has turned red and you will be assailed by a high-pitched cacophony as the drivers behind get horny despite the display informing everyone that it will be 120 seconds before it turns green. Psychologists will find a connection between horn-blowing and sexual inadequacy but there’s no better symbol of pathetic men than the sign at the back of the lorry—Horn Please.
Thanks to the allure of free messaging, it’s become an anarchic space with groups of every kind joining at the rate of one million new users a day. A higher percentage of the world population is under the spell of WhatsApp than that which perished in the two world wars. It’s a terrifying thought since the frequency with which one is bombarded with photographs, audio and video files and jokes has increased to about once every five minutes. The addiction is enhanced by the prospect of being part of closed groups where there’s a smug sense of privacy. After a while, most WhatsApp users get to know what it’s like to be stalked, or, indeed, be the stalker.