Wall of Shame!

 Wall of Shame!

For decades stood there in the village a wall

built with bricks of shame and tears of dalits.

Keeping in exile senses of mutual trust and honor

the upper caste built the wall, parading airs of supremacy.

A long and huge wall-- it wasn’t built by cement, but

by unjust and unruly ethics-- hatred being the Mason.

Poor dalits, mute they became seeing the wall in their way;

resigned timidly to their cell of subservience … a bequest

 they got from the Varnas. “It’s another albatross on our neck”

muttered the Dalits wrenching their hands in despair.

Happy they became when down went the wall of shame.

For, in its debris they saw no stones and bricks, but

the pride and arrogance of a haughty caste.

To the ground gone the village wall, but yet to go from

our minds is the sturdy wall of casteism, which

we still keep for revenge.

[A sturdy wall that was built across a village in South India which blocked the lower-castes to have access to the main road was recently demolished.]

Image courtesy: Google

Some Things Will Never Change

“When I was a young man, I wanted to change the world/ I found it was difficult to change the world, so I tried to change the nation/ When I found I couldn’t change the nation, I began to focus on my town/ I couldn’t change the town too/ Now as an old man I tried to change my family, but to no avail/ I then realized that only thing I can change is myself and if long ago I had changed myself, I could have made an impact my family, the town and the nation.”- Rabi Israel Salanter.

 While taunting man’s helplessness to achieve what he wants in life, this poem also underscores the impossibility of changing certain things in the world… things that remain immutable to change… things that go past human efforts.

 Some of my friends are always switching jobs and going in for new, green pastures. At the time of their migration to new companies, they would blame their old ones being regressive and dead to the changes happening around them. The new companies my friends hop in suddenly catch their fancy and I hear them speak highly of them. But, their fancy is a short- lived phenomenon. For, I know they would quit the new concerns too calling their bosses addled headed morons and the company lacking in long range visions.

So fastidious are my friends that they go on switching their jobs and adducing reasons for it. A deep study of their behavior may reveal that they have sort of mind-set that refuse to appreciate the goodness in other things or persons if they go against their pre-conceived ideas and thoughts. With the ‘I-am-always-okay’ thoughts ever filling in our minds, we built an imaginary world in ourselves and weigh the real world with our so- called self- worth.

 Like nature, we should have equipoise in life. We should appreciate that while there are many things in life that are liable to change, still there are some things that are immune to change. My friends who are switching companies are well qualified. They have all the know-how and expertise in their respective fields. However, they are not ready to adopt themselves to the atmosphere of a company, which requires a change of mind-set. They quit their jobs feeling it infra dig to work with companies that are incompatible to their self-worth. If they had been a little patient, they could have brought desired changes in their workplaces.

 ‘I am always infallible, doing things right,’ is the thought that drives many of us when we pitch in to change things around us. While we perk up our ears to hear the ideas and thoughts of our contemporaries, we never open our minds either to accept them or evaluate their merits. Unfortunately, we expect such opening of minds from others when we preach our notions and thoughts. It is a sort of ‘I am okay, but you aren’t okay’ mind-set that refuses to see the worthiness in others.

‘My mom doesn’t understand me; my family doesn’t understand me; no one in my office hears what I say; and the society too is not ready to travel with my thoughts and ideas,’ are some of the monologues we continuously indulge in all through our life without realizing that it is we who need to change and not the society.

 Why do we indulge is such mawkish monologues? Why people including our family and friends don’t understand us? Why the society is lukewarm and looks askance at us when we try to change things? This happens because we always sit in a high pedestal of vanity and expect the world to rally around us and adapt to what we preach or ignore what we impeach.

There were a lot of leaders in our midst who changed many wrong courses in the world. The world accepted their course corrections without resistance as the leaders did it smoothly without the air of ‘I-know-all’. They did not swim against the current; they rather went with the stream and turned it to their way at a right time. So, success becomes elusive to those who try to force feed others with their thoughts and opinions, however good they may be.

 We cannot bring changes in the world without changing our mindset which only reflects our pride-self and know-all-character. We’d better remember that the world will never for once fall at our feet and adapt to the change we preach. Rather, it is we who should turn our thoughts to the course of the world. For, course correction, like charity, should begin at home.

 “My god, give me powers and prowess to change those things that are susceptible to change. If not, make my mind more pliable to accept such things that are immune to change,” has been the prayers of those who want to sail smoothly through the hard waters of life.

Image courtesy: Google

                                     

Unbeatable Ticket Touts

The queue was longer than the extended, mystical tail of the legendary Veer Hanuman.   Fortunately, I stood in the middle of the queue that pitched in before a railway booking counter issuing open tickets. It was ages since I had travelled in an unreserved compartment.

The queue was only inching its way to the counter. I stood in between two fatties who virtually squeezed me into pulp. People who stood behind me too were uncharitable as they tried to edge me out of the line. But still, I was hopeful of getting my ticket in no time. I was always like that … a hopeless optimistic bloke who would attempt to dismantle a mountain with a chisel.

My CEO, a cranky old truck, could never identify problems/issues whenever they flicker in the office, but run amok when all are in flames. So, I was here in the queue to catch an early morning train, go over to Coimbatore and sort out some burning issues there.

The queue picked up speed for a moment only to stop its momentum abruptly. I spotted a middle-aged man came and parked him opposite the queue. He was clad in white dhoti and sleeveless shirt. His gleaming pate was smeared with vibhuti [sacred ash]. He took out a sachet of Pan Parag from his pocket, cut open it with his teeth and emptied it in the mouth, all simultaneously in reflex. Beside him stood a police constable. His presence soared my spirits, as I was now hopeful of getting the ticket without any hurdle. Again, the optimist!

Gosh! I was wrong [the optimist went down the drain]. For, I now saw a posse of goons appeared from nowhere and tried to break the queue. There started a pandemonium when people standing in the back came to the front and confronted the goons. The police man swung into action, but strangely he dislodged those, including me, who were already standing in the queue and enabled the intruders to take our places.

Jostled out of the queue, I suddenly found myself standing shoulder to shoulder with the dhoti-clad, pan-chewing man. He was holding a bunch of tickets in his hand and started selling them to those who were displaced by the goons. People had no qualms about shelling out as much as Rs. 300 per ticker [the original fare was only Rs 75] and buying tickets from the man. ‘He must be a tout … a blood sucker in disguise,’ I thought plaintively.

When the tout had an unsold ticket with him, he offered it to me demanding only Rs. 250, out of sympathy. I got wild and yelled at him blue and black. ‘You tout. You’re hand in glove with the police, dislodge people from the queue and sell them your bloody tickets for a fortune. I’m a responsible citizen, going to write to ‘The Hindu’ about this sordid incident.’ By now, a large crowd gathered around me, but the tout and the police man disappeared from the scene.

So, I missed the 6.15 am super fast train. Every time I stood in the queue for getting tickets for subsequent trains, the queue was broken by new group of goons with the help of a constable. It was now 10.30 am. I have missed the series of trains. My boss got me over my mobile and gave me a fine dressing down for being unduly late in catching a train.

Driven to the wall, I ran hither and thither; met the SM and the Railway Police. They simply shrugged off their shoulders, gesturing their inability to do anything on my complaint. Exhausted, I sat on a bench in the waiting hall.’ Why a bunch of touts is allowed to hijack a well-evolved system and convert it to their own convenience … convert it for spinning money’, I thought naively.

The tout, after some time, came over to me, of course in another avatar. For, I now saw him in the pants with his shirt tucked in. No vibhuti on his forehead, it was gleaming brighter. I could guess that his new avatar was only to hoodwink people about his identity. Brandishing a ticket, he demanded Rs. 400. All in gestures. I was reluctant for a moment invaded by my cardinal principles of anti-corruption. But then, my exigencies became more important than my principles and they made me submit myself meekly to the tout. I gave him the amount and got the ticket.

Spitting out the last bit of the pan parag into a garbage bin, the tout smiled at me sheepishly and said: ‘That’s it. Illiterate persons are smarter than the educated lot like you. For, the unlettered know how to go about in life. They don’t cling to useless principles. But, you, the pants-clad people are mere wastrels not knowing the intricacies of life, but living in your own make-believe world. Come on, sir, go over to the 3^rd platform and board the 11.15 train. My people in the general compartment will help you get a window seat.’

I nodded grimly, started leaving the waiting-hall for the 3^rd platform. When I walked over the foot over bridge, I felt like walking over the corpse of my anti-graft feelings and principles.  Let them RIP.

Image courtesy: Google