Best Nationalist I Ever Met

I saw a new face of ‘nationalism’ yesterday. It’s kind of funny, if I don’t let myself dive into the arterial meaning of modern psychotic borderline fascism, where patriotism gets narrower definition day by day and blood turns to bluer.

I just got down from metro. As usual I was late – so my legs were literally dragging my fat buttock and fatter stomach in a definitive hope to reach office before somebody started looking for me. I was being old, as I could see young boys and girls, mostly in black lawyers’ hood were passing me. They didn’t seem to be in hurry, but they were faster, even after my fiercest pushing of myself.

I ran down the stairs and walked fast. I felt that someone was pulling my shirt from behind. I looked over my shoulder and noticed a mid-aged person with a straight face and moving lips. He was saying something to me. I removed my earpiece and smiled to him with an ‘amsawee’, which he didn’t bother to listen or reply to – he was into his own words.

“Can you believe these girls?” He pointed his fingers to a group of young girls in black robes heading towards the building of Supreme Court. I remembered this young gang passed me a while ago with cackles and laughter. They were pretty young, probably still in colleges or something.

“What about the girls?” I genuinely asked.

“Look at their heights. It’s a shame”, the gentleman said. His voice was serious like a seasoned politician. There was legitimate concern.

“What? I don’t understand”.

“Notice their heights. This generation is destroying our nation. I wonder what they eat”! The voice of the mid-aged person was more worried than the burping questions and confusions stuck in my throat. I am certainly dealing with a mad. Am I? But he looked fine.

“It’s okay. They look okay”, I managed. And I regretted the moment the words came out from my mouth.

“Are you crazy? They are not okay. What’ll be their heights? Maximum five feet or maybe two inches more? You call this height okay?” The voice of him was loud enough to make some passers-by turn this way.

I was annoyed. What the hell? I asked him with a steep aggravation in my voice and face, “So what? What’s your problem?”

The next words could never be unheard, even if I somehow manage to erase my memory like in Eternal Sunshine on a Spotless Mind.

The person said harshly. “It’s a national problem. How the children of these girls will fight in border? They will be five feet. Our country is being destroyed and it’s not my problem?”

I stopped, but the person didn’t. He moved away with the same speed, probably he found no ‘nationalist’ in me and he was pissed off.

I held one end of earpiece on my hand. When my brain cells were back in work after sudden shock, I put earpiece back and resumed walking.

So far, so many people in social media or in my office and sometimes during friendly banters trolled me as an ‘anti-nationalist’. I questioned ‘needlessly’ and suspected dangers, where there was ‘none’. I was a paranoid, they said. I was a definitive ‘anti’, they argued in a manner, which was borderline brawl and I didn’t respond, which they took as my acceptance and goaded. On my part, I could read those ‘zombies’, but this one was new. This one startled me. This one really put a smile on my face.

Surely, it’s gonna be on top of chart.