DISORIENTATION

Long ago, when serpentine queues in post offices spilled over to the roads; when receiving a postcard scribbled with ineligible writing was an honour; when inland letters adorned with visages of national leaders triggered smiles on elderly people – everyone literally lived a public life bordering on privacy!!!

Do the two words – public and privacy go hand in hand, except as antonyms? The answer is “yes”, surely not in the present but in the past. For today’s generation flooded with juicy Page 3 quotes on privacy, the whole idea might seem alien. I am not up in arms against celebrities seeking “newspaper columns of fame”nor on a hate campaign directed at youngsters. Instead, just making an effort to jot down thoughts on the “all intrusive mobile phones”

When someone says this new-age instrument is an intrusion, only a handful especially the elders will agree without any argument. But that’s true – mobile phones have become partners in our daily chores. Whether you are walking, eating, sleeping or relaxing, the mini-intruder is indispensable. Add to it, alluring features varying from music to photos to internet etc.

What began as a utility that helps in cutting down the distance among ordinary people is augmenting the distance between human hearts. Term it pure absurdity or a wise understanding, privacy remains just a description – something lost in the hustle and bustle of mortal existence…

MOMENTS OF REALITY

Are we born hypocrites or do we acquire hypocrisy post birth? Does it have anything to do with the DNA strands? Or do I have a knack of inviting amnesia when the need is for humaneness?

It was a lazy Saturday morning with smell of fresh soil rendering the air. After shrugging off the overpowering sleep, I just caught hold of the television remote. Then followed - channel browsing for nearly half an hour before my parched tongue yearned for tea (The taste is not at all issue but the feeling of sipping a light brown liquid mixed with diluted milk, does help in dispelling morning blues!!!)

After slipping out of the apartment, I strolled down the stony path rather the main access road to the nearby chaiwallah. Though rotten vegetables, a butcher’s shop and piled up garbage dump, a few metres away, would keep away any ordinary mortal, I just didn’t care to walk back.

The aged, dark and unshaven fellow wearing a dirty T-shirt torn at places, who runs the teashop, greeted me with a smile. After exchanging pleasantries, I just drank the cup of tea, only to find that I had just Rs 2 whereas I had to pay Rs 2.50. The rest were currencies of Rs 10, 50 and 100. As I gave Rs 10 and told the old fellow, “I have only Rs 2 with me,”the response was much faster than the time I took to sip tea, “Give me Rs 2 and pay 50 paise, the next time.

I smiled at him and came back. On the way, I picked the day’s newspapers. Slowly, I went back to previous day’s party thrown by my friend for getting MBA admission. It was at a nearby “lounge bar”- (the new term for places which are half-restaurant and half-bar). Amidst blaring loudspeakers and occasional noises from drunkards, I just munched on French fries, chicken fry and drank coke. For our nearly three-hour outing, the cost was more than Rs 3,000. We didn’t even check the prices for dishes instead just kept on placing orders till we wasted most of the food.

* * *

The same day, the guy who buys old newspapers, magazines, bottles and the like, knocked at the door. He was the most wanted, atleast for me to dispose those yellowish newspapers. Interestingly, we stuck an instant rapport with our conversation oscillating from family matters to profit margins for buying old things. Believe me, it was our first meeting and we have never seen each other before. Finally, we settled for the business – one kilo newspaper and magazine were priced at Rs 5 and Rs 3, respectively.

Thanks to my friends, there were also lots of empty liquor bottles and the price for them, was all the more interesting – Rs 1 per bottle! This kept away my friend who argued with him and decided to give only two beer bottles. The paperwallah announced the price – Rs 66 for 8 kg newspapers, 8 kg magazines and two bottles!!!

He paid Rs 100 and asked for change. Like an ordinary human being, suddenly the worthiness of Rs 1 and 2 dawned on me. Without even giving a second thought, I just asked the paperwallah to give four more rupees and gave me him Rs 30 back. His smile partially vanished till I give him another Rs 2. So, the deal ended at Rs 68! I was happy for successfully snatching extra penny from the poor paperwallah.

Though too late, a few minutes later, I gave a second thought. I never think of spending Rs 100s and Rs 500s in posch restaurants. I even give way tips of 10s and 20s without any guilty feeling. But with a paperwallah who sells old things to eat a square meal, I feel victorious when I take away more money from him!!!

A sense of depression and bitterness towards the self engulfs me to this day. Even the chaiwallah is notches above me. He knows the worth of 50 paise but values humaneness more than that!!!