uncle terrorist

Connaught Place. I'm sitting in the backseat of a car, video camera in my lap, we're heading for our next location.

it's a nice gently warm November day in delhi, or would have been if it wasn't for all the exhuast from all those cars bunched close together.

i look very different from the picture you see up on the blog - the hair is cut short and respectable, and the eight day stubble is a uniform one; no imitation wolverine...

a small van pulls up next to us at the traffic light, it's full of school kids. i don't really notice then becuase i'm busy changing the tape.

then there is a round of nervous gigglinng six inches away from my window, and a kid says, with nervous glee, looking at me - 'Uncle Aatankvadi, Uncle Aatankvadi!' (Uncle Terrorist). I look up, momentarily shocked. Then I realise that from where the kid is sitting, the camera, most of its bulk concealed, could possibly pass for a gun.

The kid couldn't have been more than eight years old.
Anyonne can be a terrorist, especiially if they have a beard.

If this is what has happpened to children here in India, is it surprising that George Bush is probably winning America?

Love,
Uncle Aatankvadi.