Sunday, February 26, 2012

MANDI-"The Market"

He was observing the various aspects of the article. Its way of speaking, its of walking, way of seeing and behaving to the various circumstances. The "article" was being scrutinized so as to ensure that he was not lame, limp, squint, dumb, deaf or not having any other physical problems.

'It' was under constant watch as to see his intellectual skills and IQ. Whether this article will suit his status or whether this article be able to sustain and adapt to their living standards and lifestyle.

Whether this 'article' be able to bring joys to their daughter's life and will 'it' be able to satisfy her material needs? Will 'it' be able to earn so much as to sustain his daughter's lifestyle?

"He has recently qualified a very prestigious competitive exam bhai sahab", told the owner of the article, as if this statement would add a further accolade to the quality of his product. And indeed this statement sends a faint smile on the face of the customer as if he felt that the object he wants to get has really some quality in it.

"What are you doing these days?", asked the customer. "Research project", was a prompt reply from the 'article'. "That's really good. What are you planning to join in future? Have you tried for any PSUs?", asked the man again to the article. Article looked a confused and emotionless object having several qualities which seemed worthy for its selling.

Indeed the 'article' had several qualities, after all 'it' had been made and polished for 25 long years by the owners. And as soon as it was out in the market, the list of customers wanting to have it became too long. Frequent phone calls, emails, messages and all sorts of communication became frequent to the owner for seeking its compatibility and suitability for them.

Managers, Principals, Servicemen, Judges and all sort of people were in the list of customers wanting to have the single piece created.

The 'article' was still thinking,"Am I alive? Do I have intelligence? Can I really work? Can I really live? Has my selling time started? To whom will I be sold to? For whom I have to work for the whole life? Whose happiness will be my aim for the lifetime? Who will I be passed on to? Will she be able to keep me properly? Will I be efficient in matching her needs? Till when this market of humans will go on?"

I am still searching an answer!!!

"Ye Mandi kab tak chalegi????"

Saturday, February 25, 2012

Inhuman society for the humans themselves!!!

Her stoned eyes revealed a dreamless state of mind, looking into the vacuum as if she had attained salvation without even knowing a single pleasure of the world.

Her baby was sitting on the cold floor with trivial clothes on its body. the floor was cold enough to send a baby from so called sophisticated society to go to coma.

Her unsolved locks, plain face and emotionless expression were enough to tell that she doesn't belong to the so called well to do society of the nation. Call it a bed-sheet, a stole, a shawl or a rag was all that she had as a winter accessory to cover herself from the biting cold of ruthless Delhi.

Her husband was thrashed by a local policeman a few hours ago for mistakenly being identified as rag-picker in the waiting room of the Indian Railways. Yet, they were normal as they were allowed to sit near the dustbin of the waiting room.

She was moveing now and then trying to find a comfortable and warm position for her half naked child whose wet cheeks were enough to express that he was either hungry or cold or worse, both.

Rani represented a typical Indian face of a lower strata girl who had been refused and abused by all since her childhood. Food, clothes, education or Independence, everything was a dream for her refused by parents, in-laws or society.

Waiting for their train, Rani, her husband Shivram and her brother-in-law Kashi tried to find a well deserved sleep which had been snatched by the ordeal of bread winning for themselves. Hari, her child, had a weak body vulnerable to the killing diseases and it was proved by the severe coughing and running nose.

Policemen were a regular terrorists or a threat to them and whenever so called 'security' came, they trembled like a petty thief caught of a trivial theft.