satori

Bracing myself for another boring day at office, I got down from the shared auto and handed him a ten rupee note. Travelling from Dwarka to Noida is a project in itself when using public transport especially in peak summer. In fact my best time remains 2 hours and fifteen minutes till date and best fare Rs. 36.10 (when dropped by mom to metro station, used the metro card and chose to walk the last leg to office apart from good weather).


Jumping over the fence to cross the green stretch of divider, I reached the other side of the road. There was no hurry to reach the office early as I was on bench. So I began to stalk the sporadic shades on street avoiding the families that survived alongside. But that was impossible unless I walked heads up. Sooner or later a toddler would roll down your way, wailing because he had been fooled in the game he was playing with his older siblings. And my eyes hypnotically follow them to their abode.


On an unused land (used as a makeshift dumping  ground) just next to India’s top software consultancy company where these daily wage laborers have managed to find a dry patch of land bordering the standing pool of water, plastic sheets hung on logs of wood used only to house whatever little belongings they possessed. They are not meant to spend the day in.Days are spent below the trees on a plastic cot, where the whole family gathers for siesta after devouring their share of porridge. The little ones play around. 


I noticed two such children playing with their elder brother. He would hold them one by one and turn them around and finally drop them on ground. They fought among themselves to get more of such rides. I could hear their crackling laughter as I passed by them, but then I stopped in disgust. The ground they were playing was literally black from the stagnant water that had seeped through.


Closer enough, it must be smelling too, not to mention the germs it was infested with. But they continued to pull and drag each other over it playfully. ‘Eh! How could someone play in that filth?’, I wondered. ‘Every bit of them must be smelling horribly. How can their parents be so careless?’ And then the clichéd thought ‘Is India really an economic or whatever power? Yes! Which way is our economics going then and for how long?’


It seems our economics has taught us to purposefully side-line this section inventing ingenious parameters to declare ourselves sound. What kind of education system do we have where we are fed constantly on how great our country is and further going to be and taught to walk with heads up and without a trace of remorse? We forget what stirred us and continue to vote for the handful of people eager to realize their selfish ambitions through us. Why has it become so difficult to eliminate poverty? ...


My satori was put to an end by the sweat running down from my forehead and like everyone else and every other day I walked past them. After all I am also a by-product of the current system!