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SIGNS OF THE TIMES
When the skies were blue !Humra Quraishi
I’m just back from smog –
ridden New Delhi. Looking
and feeling rotten. All
didn’t seem well with the
capital city. It reminded me
of a hospital extension,
with masks covering haggard faces
and the unmasked going about
with a nervous gait …trying to
escape to a nowhere
of sorts. As though
each one of them an
under trial let loose
in an open jail, with
poisonous gases
unleashed right from
the top.
Compounding the
mess the general
mahaul around:
curbs on even on the
free flow of thoughts.
Wondering and
wandering about
here and there in that
maze… Tried my level best to see right and left or focus just straight ahead but visibility blurred to such an extent that besides lofty concrete structures couldn’t spot any signs of the so called development. Nah, not to be spotted any of the brooms swish – swashing dust from here to there .Filth spread out as never before even at the entrance of the Malls somewhat over-stuffed with phoren maal but who cares! Inhalers and masks the urgent need of the day, as citizens go coughing amidst cries …trying to survive in this façade-ridden scenario where even encounters are turning out to be fake. Harnessing of that tiny little mosquito or any of the strays loitering around seemingly impossible by all possible might under the state machinery, so in utter frustration they hound and pound the two-legged human being ,who is anyway dying a painfully slow death in these developed times! And as I walked around , gasping in the midst of this haze , there seem many more freshly constructed hospitals and clinics at every little turn of this Millennium City. Several of those medical outlets equipped with surgical dens. Nah, not to be confused with surgical strikes, though not too certain of the near killing sessions well- inside in the operation theatres. Outside the hospital wards and operation theatres, the dying and even the undying discussing death and offshoots: Hell not up there but right here in the midst of these hellish conditions. Overhearing them a developer. Coming up with ‘heavenly’ development projects for the last rites, what with the so many dying in this smog, getting upgraded by the hour. So now, no more dreamy homes but frilly cremation grounds and graveyards! Don’t know whether bookings are on, together with heady discounts and more than tempting offers, as a great majority amongst us can no longer take the strain of this third classliving in a farce ridden scenario. Deterioration as never before. Earlier, one could step out without wondering whether it was summer or winter or spring or autumn. No longer .To be checked and re-checked the time, day and month of the year. Why? Can’t commute during the ‘peak hours’ of the working days; with commuters scurrying around in that frenzied maddening way. Worsen those strains during the winter fog, autumn smog, summer’s sun-stroking heat and , of course, during the monsoon floods where there erupts every chance of getting wrecked if not drowned ! Enough of those daily disasters to demolish any of those romantic notions of rains –drizzles, aandhi –toofans. Forget those couplets, verses, folk songs and Bollywood lyrics on baarish- paani, thandagaram mausam .Fast learn those contrived developmental graphs and those cooked up details to cooked meals and the other readymade bandobast to settle all those pangs, right from hunger to thirst to much more!
Though this smouldering smog can be called as one of those
levellers but even here money
coming to the rescue of those
well-equipped with sagging-pockets .For them holds out an
array of air purifiers and
conditioners and all those getaway destinations How many
amongst us can actually flee ?It
gets difficult if not near
impossible to make two ends
meet ,with little rupaiyya left to
buy tickets to run from here to
there .Get away where to ? The
entire North India seems reeling
under a smog-riddled atmosphere,
of course with varying degrees. Wrapped in nostalgia ,I sit all sad and sullen , wondering rather aloud: weren’t we better off in those good old days when ‘developing’ or ‘under-developed’ we were with fewer wants.Just two square meals and that once – in -a - while dining out sessions seemed to take care of everyday wants . The skies up there looked blue .The flowers bloomed. The human face looked carefree and hassle free…the human form was still intact and those cravings for emotional anchorages were not to be confused with surcharged sexual releases. Those were the good old days when we actually lived and lived quite happily! Not like today where even the basic traces of survival are turning out to be such a pain….an ongoing struggle for survival, I am more than shocked when rulers of the day continue to talk of growth, development, longevity, and whatever else they can package in their package of lies. In fact, contrary to their claims, today, in these so called developed times we are more prone to deaths and decay. The environmental pollution is killing our very organs. Not to overlook the noise pollution hitting the very heart. And the limbs cannot be left spared with strays around. On the prowl
Hunger pangs |