Monday, August 25, 2008

To each his own.

He was looking at it longingly.It was beckoning him from a distance. Everyday Raja stared at it on his way to work.He toiled all day with the hope that he could save enough to buy it one day. His boss once caught him dreaming on job.He never let the matter rest. It had been three months since that day. "All these dreams wont get you anywhere. Life is too easy for you. Before i came here, i used to work double the time for half your wages."Raja was so sick of hearing it time and again. True, work was good here. But, the man was unbearable. He went back to his dream again. He mentally counted his savings. "One more month and I should be done." He told himself. Consoling his longing heart.

Shyam was lost in his dream world. It flashed before his eyes. It had been evading him for so long. "When am I going to get my hands on it? " He wondered for the zillionth time. Work was hectic. He hardly had breathing time. " The independence this slavery gives me.." he was trying to convince himself. Sometimes he felt he had sold his soul to the devil. He checked it again. On his way back home. One loan and he was sure next week he would own it. He whistled his way back home.

Raja had to work extra hard that day. The company had a new contract. The godowns had to be emptied. Lifting the fiftieth bag to his shoulder, he trudged on. "Oh! Why was it so hot?!" The last thing his mind was thinking about before it bid farewell to the world was the white shirt. The shirt it had coveted. Hanging in all its glory in the Seth's shop. An old man's long and unfulfilled wish. His bare body shone in the sun. The sweat made him shine. It was quite a while before people noticed he was dead.

"Hey Shyam! We'll have to stay in a bit longer today. Some old chap in a godown died of a heat stroke. The workers are on strike. There are riots in the city."Cursing his bad luck, Shyam went back to his seat. The room was too cold. He went to the AC and increased the temperature. "Ten hours a day i slave here. Now i have to stay longer. Just my luck" He mailed one of his million a month earning poor friend.

RamGopal was regretting the day he had joined the police force. The rioteer had stormed into a mercedes show room and broken all cars into pieces. Very few people in the mob even knew the name of the dead labourer they were staging protests for.Most were just interested in disrupting the peace in the city so that their parties could talk about it during the next election. The lootings in the city had been horrible. From the godown, he walked back to the main road. Fluttering in the wind was a white shirt marked Rs.200. The only thing in the shop that had escaped the mob.

Shyam was finally able to leave his office. The honda glided through the ravaged roads. It skidded to a halt in front of the mercedes show room. His custom made car! The windows were broken. It was dented at places. He stared at it in horror.

Raja lay in a dark corner. Covered with a white cloth. The rat sitting near him seemed to mourn his death. It took Shyam two months to get his car. The white shirt still flutters in a shop not far away from Raja's final resting place.

Thursday, August 21, 2008

Olympic thoughts

I see a nation celebrating a gold and a bronze.. Congratulations winners.. But are these two medals reason enough to celebrate? I dont think so. For a country of 1.1 billion, 2 medals seems to be totally insufficient. Are we still living in the glory of the past when great kings ruled and great men walked around in every city?Isn't it time we did something to really improve the state of this developing nation rather than rest in past laurels?

Monday, August 11, 2008


Sometimes things happen the way they do for a reason. I get so bugged wondering why life takes a turn for the worst when things are going so well. Then i just pause and think of all the bad(i call them bad..) things that happened to me. Something good has happened because of them.. Always. How else can i label it but fate?? I strongly believe that things that are destined to happen happen anyway. You cant control that. But, you can definitely control how you react to them. I have been unsuccessfully trying to control my reactions for years now. I somehow havent succeeded to the extent i want to. In such instances, i just say that the reaction was something that was bent to occur anyway and that i cant play with fate. Fate how i do love that word. It is an amazing excuse to escape from reality.
Was out shopping yesterday with my friends. The thing about bangalore that disturbs me the most is this cruel distinction between haves and havenots. I guess i havent noticed it much in the other places. Just outside the brand factory where a measly shirt costs a few thousands, you see people begging for food. You see some walking around in thin torn shirts smoking a beedi and talking philosophy with ones friend.I look at their faces and the faces of those coming out of the shops there. What is it that caused this distinction?? Can i say in this instance that whatever happens does for a reason?? Can i say that looking at the people around me? Can i label it fate? I dont know. The dialogues i use to myself when i call the world a fair place just doesnt seem appropriate anymore. Then dont ask me what i did about it.. i just walked away happily chattering with my friends. Driving the noise out with 94.3. Proving once again that it is all the more easier to crib than get down to do anything about things..