Friday, August 22, 2008
She did pinch herself
It was not long back when an ailing nation of more than a billion people rose together. As if somebody had sprinkled half a teaspoon of life on it. A nation half dead with terror attacks, diagnosed of communal disharmony, a nation with regional imbalances, innumerable perspectives clashing everyday, everywhere, a nation burning with hatred. A nation that has lost all hopes of convalescing from fatal ailments, like an ignored patient lying on a stretcher day after day in a government hospital. The stage is such that fatality of the disease has stopped worrying her. She just doesn’t care probably. Probably she knows caring won’t help much. But the same nation rose, almost a year after a handful of her young men got her a world cup. This time it was not even a handful, it was one single guy who helped her stand, stand with a billion on the same side, saluting that one single guy who had put her back in the crowd of countries where she was once forgotten of her existence. Till then her different parts were ready to get rid of each other, expunge various existences. Faith was much more important…everyone was in search of a neverland where nobody else existed. But one fine day she stood up. Somebody gave her a hand to stand up, somebody held her tight and said I’ll hold you when you stand. Your shoulders need not droop. You need not look down, you need not bend in front of your friends. It was an assurance that came in form of an Olympic gold. An Olympic Gold…realising aspiration of a billion Indians. Rich-Poor, Muslim-Hindu, metros-mofussils, Maruti 800-VolksWagen, PSU-Private, Fabindia-Levis…all possible Indians. All Indians…and before she could have the time to bask in the glory…two other men got her some more. This time the metal wasn’t as expensive as gold but on her 61st year of freedom she did make a start to take herself seriously. It’s her time now…let her sit back for with tea in her balcony watching sunset for sometime. Let’s leave her alone for sometime, let her get decked and then step out in open to astonish everybody with her grace. Amen.
Monday, August 4, 2008
The Show-Stoppers and the Show-Stealers
Yesterday was Friendship Day. A day to show love to all your friends. I was no exception. After spending a day with this very old school friend, I took an auto to get back. It was some wonderful time spent and I was in the mode ‘the world is full of love’ & ‘friends make life a blessing’. The twist happened towards the end. A silkly smooth happy day ended with a dash of sadness and ‘good people still exist’ feeling sprinkled all over.
There’s a busy T point on my way back from Saket. The Adhchini three point crossing just after the Qutub Golf Course. The road was crowded. The autorickshaw gave in from almost half a kilometre back and ceased to move. It only moved metre by metre with the crowd. It couldn’t be the traffic signal I thought. 7:45-8:00-8:15-8:30 and I could reach the T point only to find the traffic light not working. All the traffic had gathered at the T point, honking at each other, abusing each other as reckless human beings and citizens of the largest democracy of the world. And why not! It’s our Fundamental Right to just be out with it! I subconsciously joined the crowd, made an irritated face and criticised the government and rest of the people for a while with the autowallah. The honking cars, the shouting men, beggars at work, bikers in a hurry, buses not in a hurry…had turned the place into a sudden collage of human expression, where each human being had turned into a performer considering all the world’s a stage. I could see an old woman in pain sitting inside the adjacent car. For the carwallahs it was too degrading to step out of the car and clear the jam, and come-on it isn’t their job at the first place, why can’t a PCR van come and clear it, they thought. They bus drivers were too unworried, the autowallahs knew it’s beyond thei reach to clear the traffic and the bikewallahs knew they could always make their way out from in between the traffic.
I was kind of sinking into the whole situation when these few men from nowhere appeared at the G-spot of the congestion. They seemed to be trying to clear the jam. On any given day anybody would have mistaken each one of them as pickpockets. Shabby clothes, shabby hair, appearances not worth a second look…they were all there trying their best to clear it up. What hit me was the most famous TV commercial which rocked the nation a few months back. Where emerged a leader from a small kid when he tried to move the tree to open the way for the rest. I remember the kid getting a pat on his back in the end. Well, these men took some 6-8 minutes to clear the place and the traffic went smooth after that. What happened in the end, here was these men gave each other a smile, a few of them hi5s and went on. Who were they? Where do they live? What car do they drive? What brand of shirts do they wear? WHO WERE THEY? I don’t know. I bet nobody from that crowd of a few hundreds knew who they were. Nobody bothered to find out who they were, why did they have to clear the place, what would they get back in return, nobody knew. Obviously no one thanked them, no one patted on their backs. I thought, I would say a subtle thank-you while passing by. I didn’t, I thought it would be embarrassing for me to thank them.
They aren’t propagators of India Shining, neither they know what Lead India is, no, they don’t belong to the English educated, brand-conscious emerging middle-class. They were no one. They didn’t have a name, they didn’t have an identity. I named them as the ‘Show-Stealers and I also named ourselves. The Show-Stoppers…
There’s a busy T point on my way back from Saket. The Adhchini three point crossing just after the Qutub Golf Course. The road was crowded. The autorickshaw gave in from almost half a kilometre back and ceased to move. It only moved metre by metre with the crowd. It couldn’t be the traffic signal I thought. 7:45-8:00-8:15-8:30 and I could reach the T point only to find the traffic light not working. All the traffic had gathered at the T point, honking at each other, abusing each other as reckless human beings and citizens of the largest democracy of the world. And why not! It’s our Fundamental Right to just be out with it! I subconsciously joined the crowd, made an irritated face and criticised the government and rest of the people for a while with the autowallah. The honking cars, the shouting men, beggars at work, bikers in a hurry, buses not in a hurry…had turned the place into a sudden collage of human expression, where each human being had turned into a performer considering all the world’s a stage. I could see an old woman in pain sitting inside the adjacent car. For the carwallahs it was too degrading to step out of the car and clear the jam, and come-on it isn’t their job at the first place, why can’t a PCR van come and clear it, they thought. They bus drivers were too unworried, the autowallahs knew it’s beyond thei reach to clear the traffic and the bikewallahs knew they could always make their way out from in between the traffic.
I was kind of sinking into the whole situation when these few men from nowhere appeared at the G-spot of the congestion. They seemed to be trying to clear the jam. On any given day anybody would have mistaken each one of them as pickpockets. Shabby clothes, shabby hair, appearances not worth a second look…they were all there trying their best to clear it up. What hit me was the most famous TV commercial which rocked the nation a few months back. Where emerged a leader from a small kid when he tried to move the tree to open the way for the rest. I remember the kid getting a pat on his back in the end. Well, these men took some 6-8 minutes to clear the place and the traffic went smooth after that. What happened in the end, here was these men gave each other a smile, a few of them hi5s and went on. Who were they? Where do they live? What car do they drive? What brand of shirts do they wear? WHO WERE THEY? I don’t know. I bet nobody from that crowd of a few hundreds knew who they were. Nobody bothered to find out who they were, why did they have to clear the place, what would they get back in return, nobody knew. Obviously no one thanked them, no one patted on their backs. I thought, I would say a subtle thank-you while passing by. I didn’t, I thought it would be embarrassing for me to thank them.
They aren’t propagators of India Shining, neither they know what Lead India is, no, they don’t belong to the English educated, brand-conscious emerging middle-class. They were no one. They didn’t have a name, they didn’t have an identity. I named them as the ‘Show-Stealers and I also named ourselves. The Show-Stoppers…
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