I have met with an accident and lying a little away from the main road in the bushes. There are ants, rats, dogs and other small animals gnawing away at my body and I am in excruciating pain. I shout out for help and my voice rises loud and clear, but no one hears over the din of the motorway. A few look towards me and think, "Thank God thats not me" and walk away, a disturbed look on their faces.
A few people, almost all of them small children, try to drive away the animals, but then have too rush when they hear faceless voices reminding them of their various commitments for which they are already late. A few who ignore the voice are punished heavily. So are made to starve, some are rendered homeless and the rest jobless and characterless.
Finally a group of people arrive. In All white and with radiant faces and smiles. I tell them of my pain and demand help. They ask. "And who are you? You look familiar but we are not sure".
I say, "I am the farmer who feed you, I am the river which quenches your thirst. I am "the one" your brothers and sisters died for. I am your pride and dignity. I am your country, India.".
They seem moved by the fact and whisper among themselves. I am still in unbearable pain. They smile at me and I feel so very relieved. "I will be well again" I think to myself, "This pain will go away and I will have all my glory back".
These people seem to be making some calls, important calls, maybe they need more people, specialists to help me. OK, I can bear the pain for a little while more. But why are they not driving away the rodents who keep chewing at me?
A little later a few truck loads of people arrive. "A ha! Help at last! After all I am their Mother India". These people who alight from the vehicles look at the initial group and they nod towards me. The first new comer hands over an envelope to the group and walk towards me. I am watching sprawled on the ground. I don't know why, but a fear builds up deep inside me and starts creeping through my veins. This man, the new-comer raises his arms, he is carrying a sickle!!! Swiftly he chops away a part of my body and walks away grinning. I scream, and they all scream back at me. The second, the third and they keep on coming. The group in while are busy collecting the envelopes and counting something inside them. I strain to see and it is money.
In bits and pieces I am being hacked away. Not too far away celebrations start. It seems that the pieces of my body have fetched them excellent revenues and thats the celebrations for. The children come back and are aghast to see the scene. They intervene and try to stop the massacre. Some are convinced that I do not feel any pain and the rest are beaten and thrashed until they die to run away. And these people keep on hacking at me.
I cannot scream any more. The sadness of being abused in too great for me to feel any more pain now. I watch, helplessly. Almost as helpless as the huge crown which has gathered to see .. just see,not do anything.
Soon the locals are driven away. The "sale" stops. I am in no state to think.. I just watch. Helicopters .. I can hear them...and many of them. They come closer, hover and finally land. More people alight from the helicopters and I can literally see them drooling at the prospect of looting me further. I sigh and resign. I resign to the fact that those born of me and from me are now letting the world loot me for money. "Little do they know of the fortune that I could provide had they treated me with a little respect and care. I am a nation of a 100 million and when I set my mind, I can ... could have made every one of my citizen such that the whole world would just stand and watch us grow from power to power, joy to joy."
Now I lie in a pool of blood, little do these people know that every drop of my blood is contributed from their own....just like every flicker of my smile would have added to their own.
Now when I weep bitter tears, the whole nation weeps. My unhappiness has spread into every heart. My pain is being felt by every soul. I but cannot help this. Because I am nothing but the collective thoughts of my citizens. I am the mirror of the people and these fools do not realize that what they do unto me, they do unto themselves.
The wrong doers should be punished and the bystanders are to be banished.
- Jai Hind (Do we have the right to say that?)
January 27, 2011
December 24, 2010
A usual romantic day, with my motorcycle
These days, against the advise of all my friends and well wishers, I dumped all modes of public and private transport and decide to use my motorcycle to commute to office. It is a 35 KM ride each way and in spite of being stressful and slightly risky, I enjoy every bit of it.
The trip starts 7:10 Am in the morning when I come down from my 7th floor apartment to find the watchman wiping the bike dry after a wash. Man how can he time himself so well every morning? I have tried creeping up to him on the sly, walking across the terrace and coming down the elevators of the adjacent wing and all. No matter what, 'he will be there attending to my bike when I reach it'.- Amazing, this old man!
It is bitterly cold some mornings, so after putting on the helmet, jacket and gloves, I start her (the bike) and ride out. This, by far is the second best experience I have all day, every day. The first being watching my daughter wriggle out of a tight spot I usually put her in. It's complete bliss. Open roads, cool mornings and the sun rising in my rear-view mirrors. This is the time when I and my Glady speak to each other. We reach agreements on how much revving she likes, what rpm suits her best in which gears and how much can she be pushed. All days are not same, some days she likes to be really revved up and other days she seems to be in a more placid mood.
Reaching office in inside of an hour is when this part of our dating ends. Office is as usual. One thing worth mentioning is, my boss has the uncanny ability to bring in the projects in those very areas where I wish I had more time to prepare. Another amazing person, honestly. Well somehow the day passes. Different days pass at various speeds. And it is time to have a duet with my Glady once more.
This evening ride back home is, unlike the morning one, an exercise in skill. Not as much as the skill of riding, but more like the art of negotiating. Every other vehicle on the road has a driver/ rider who is stressed out from the day's work and in a hurry to reach somewhere - mostly home. People, the way we are, are most irritable when in a hurry. So there are these pesky little 100 and 120 and 150 CC two wheelers with all the agility in this world and absolutely no sense of discipline. They weave in and out of traffic, brake suddenly and scare the balls off other four-wheeler drivers every now and then. All drivers wish the 2 wheelers would just vanish, and some actually do try to make that wish come true!! In such a situation I am already branded as "another pest on the road". So when I try to negotiate a fair deal with them that is something like - 'I respect your right of way and you do mine', people just cannot believe it. Too Good To be True perhaps, they think? Any ways I try and use the lane system, in the manner they are supposed to be used - 'Stay in your lane as fas as possible, and change lanes only when it is proper, with ample signal'. Most drivers don't understand this, they honk and curse at the bike in front of their car until, with time and luck they realize that the bike is doing what they hope and want it to do.... ride straight! Then the driver realizes something is amiss. There is a small gap on the left, between the car ahead and the BEST Bus next to it. "Why does this bike not try to fill the gap?" he wonders. Thats what bikes do and should do (??). Why is this bike not confirming to the rules (of bad riding). SO he honks his car batteries dead. In the mean time 2-3 more bikes come out of nowhere from his right and left and block his already crawling speed progress. A ha! Light at the end of tunnel perhaps? He realizes what he was insisting me to do was not all that good. It was just that his mind was attuned to the fact that bikes do not (and hence should not) go straight.
This is the turning point. Next few Kilometers he follows my bike like a good boy, keeping his distance and staying calm. Usually I thank him./ her with a wave. I thank everyone who gives me the right of way and also those who shows signs of accommodating and accepting me as a justified user of the road.Come on they might be going the basics, but it is still a rare gesture right?
My Glady is perfectly fine with the fact that I have not spoken to her or even thought about her all this while. She knows I have been concentrating on protecting her and me from damages and avoidable touch-ins with other vehicle. She knows I am possessive about her and would not tolerate any other to even come close to touching distance. She smiles and dishes out her best behavior - accelerating and braking in total sync with my needs and plans.
After this somewhat exhausting ride through the main city, we reach Navi Mumbai and once again sing along the rest of the last few kilometers. Happy to be together, happy to be through yet another day filled with challenges, disappointments and elations.
One day I will catch the old man not tending to my bike... one day he has to mis-time himself :).
Cheers!
The trip starts 7:10 Am in the morning when I come down from my 7th floor apartment to find the watchman wiping the bike dry after a wash. Man how can he time himself so well every morning? I have tried creeping up to him on the sly, walking across the terrace and coming down the elevators of the adjacent wing and all. No matter what, 'he will be there attending to my bike when I reach it'.- Amazing, this old man!
It is bitterly cold some mornings, so after putting on the helmet, jacket and gloves, I start her (the bike) and ride out. This, by far is the second best experience I have all day, every day. The first being watching my daughter wriggle out of a tight spot I usually put her in. It's complete bliss. Open roads, cool mornings and the sun rising in my rear-view mirrors. This is the time when I and my Glady speak to each other. We reach agreements on how much revving she likes, what rpm suits her best in which gears and how much can she be pushed. All days are not same, some days she likes to be really revved up and other days she seems to be in a more placid mood.
Reaching office in inside of an hour is when this part of our dating ends. Office is as usual. One thing worth mentioning is, my boss has the uncanny ability to bring in the projects in those very areas where I wish I had more time to prepare. Another amazing person, honestly. Well somehow the day passes. Different days pass at various speeds. And it is time to have a duet with my Glady once more.
This evening ride back home is, unlike the morning one, an exercise in skill. Not as much as the skill of riding, but more like the art of negotiating. Every other vehicle on the road has a driver/ rider who is stressed out from the day's work and in a hurry to reach somewhere - mostly home. People, the way we are, are most irritable when in a hurry. So there are these pesky little 100 and 120 and 150 CC two wheelers with all the agility in this world and absolutely no sense of discipline. They weave in and out of traffic, brake suddenly and scare the balls off other four-wheeler drivers every now and then. All drivers wish the 2 wheelers would just vanish, and some actually do try to make that wish come true!! In such a situation I am already branded as "another pest on the road". So when I try to negotiate a fair deal with them that is something like - 'I respect your right of way and you do mine', people just cannot believe it. Too Good To be True perhaps, they think? Any ways I try and use the lane system, in the manner they are supposed to be used - 'Stay in your lane as fas as possible, and change lanes only when it is proper, with ample signal'. Most drivers don't understand this, they honk and curse at the bike in front of their car until, with time and luck they realize that the bike is doing what they hope and want it to do.... ride straight! Then the driver realizes something is amiss. There is a small gap on the left, between the car ahead and the BEST Bus next to it. "Why does this bike not try to fill the gap?" he wonders. Thats what bikes do and should do (??). Why is this bike not confirming to the rules (of bad riding). SO he honks his car batteries dead. In the mean time 2-3 more bikes come out of nowhere from his right and left and block his already crawling speed progress. A ha! Light at the end of tunnel perhaps? He realizes what he was insisting me to do was not all that good. It was just that his mind was attuned to the fact that bikes do not (and hence should not) go straight.
This is the turning point. Next few Kilometers he follows my bike like a good boy, keeping his distance and staying calm. Usually I thank him./ her with a wave. I thank everyone who gives me the right of way and also those who shows signs of accommodating and accepting me as a justified user of the road.Come on they might be going the basics, but it is still a rare gesture right?
My Glady is perfectly fine with the fact that I have not spoken to her or even thought about her all this while. She knows I have been concentrating on protecting her and me from damages and avoidable touch-ins with other vehicle. She knows I am possessive about her and would not tolerate any other to even come close to touching distance. She smiles and dishes out her best behavior - accelerating and braking in total sync with my needs and plans.
After this somewhat exhausting ride through the main city, we reach Navi Mumbai and once again sing along the rest of the last few kilometers. Happy to be together, happy to be through yet another day filled with challenges, disappointments and elations.
One day I will catch the old man not tending to my bike... one day he has to mis-time himself :).
Cheers!
December 21, 2010
Lessons from my Daughter
Last night when my wife and I were discussing some event, the term "Bhrahamin" (a cast in India) was spoken. My daughter, who is about to turn 6 asked what it meant. I did not know how to explain the term without injecting the cast difference into her innocent mind. As I was struggling to find the right words, images flashed in my mind, images of 5-6 children standing, staring at each other, their games forgotten, then laughter silenced and wondering what cast the other child is. It was one of the least comfortable visions I have ever had.
My daughter eats, studies, plays, laughs, cries, does every thing that makes us wish we were children again. She does not know what a cast is. She does not know that her friends can be differentiated by color, rich-poor gap, language or anything. She only knows that as friends they play and stick together. When they fight they promise never to talk to each other again and that promise is kept only until they meet the next time.
Why, I thought, do I wish I were a child? Why, I though, am I wishing when I CAN? Why can I not shed the prejudices and other adulterants that my mind is polluted with? Especially since I "know" they are undesirable emotions, why do I still hold them so close? Is it the "sheep mentality"? Or is it I am afraid to be a non-conformist? Or is it that I have been nurturing these stupid ideas so long that I am plain terrified to let them go?
I can let these baggage go.and I will. I will clean my house, and throw away all unwanted stuff. Stuff that gives shelter to bugs and fungus, and I shall do the same with my self too.
My daughter eats, studies, plays, laughs, cries, does every thing that makes us wish we were children again. She does not know what a cast is. She does not know that her friends can be differentiated by color, rich-poor gap, language or anything. She only knows that as friends they play and stick together. When they fight they promise never to talk to each other again and that promise is kept only until they meet the next time.
Why, I thought, do I wish I were a child? Why, I though, am I wishing when I CAN? Why can I not shed the prejudices and other adulterants that my mind is polluted with? Especially since I "know" they are undesirable emotions, why do I still hold them so close? Is it the "sheep mentality"? Or is it I am afraid to be a non-conformist? Or is it that I have been nurturing these stupid ideas so long that I am plain terrified to let them go?
I can let these baggage go.and I will. I will clean my house, and throw away all unwanted stuff. Stuff that gives shelter to bugs and fungus, and I shall do the same with my self too.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)