Scene I : Marine Drive , Mumbai at midnight.A teenage boy steps out of a plush residential complex overlooking the breathtaking Queen Necklace , walking a perfectly groomed Spitz on a leash. After barely going a few steps , he notices the imminent intention of the canine to relieve itself ; and places a piece of newspaper immaculately beneath the posteriors of his pet. Subsequently after the routine is complete , the boy neatly folds the paper around the malodorous contents and drops the same in the nearest bin. Thereafter meeting my look of incredulous admiration with a quick smile , he is quickly lost amidst the midnight Saturday crowd.
Scene II : Mumbai Chattrapati Shivaji Terminus - 1500 hrs.
Amidst a torrential downpour and surrounded by masses of Indian humanity in their unfettered rage and angst , I wait with fast ebbing patience to board the train and be rid of the claustrophobic crowd. With almost sadistic amusement I look down at the empty tracks and stare wondrously at the wide and varied filth lying there. From biscuit packets and chocolate wrappers to empty whiskey bottles and even a dead rat , the tracks , seem to mirror the warty underbelly of all that signifies India.
Even as I watch....SPLAT....goes an improvised newspaper plate , dispersing the remnants of a frugal midday meal into the ever forgiving drain ; followed by 2-3 generous contributions of betel stained, and in all possibility, AFB positive expectoration. Standing next to me is an old 'baba' , looking distantly like a severely malnourished Luciano Pavarotti , rescued after years of struggle in the trenches of France in WWI , might have done - complete with tattered rags , grimy hands and hollow sunken eyes , signifying if anything , the utter lack of any real purpose in his existence. Before I could open my mouth to remark , the inimitable Puneet next to me saves me the requirement
...."Baba has just got rid of all the troubles that were plaguing his life....the plate and the sputum....he is now cleansed of all his sins...and at complete inner peace with himself."
....and then as if to reaffirm the aforesaid, the old man dipped and rinsed his hands in a pool of holy water ( read.... a muddy rain puddle on the dirty platform) , wiped his mouth in the same purgatory , and lay himself down and slept like a baby amidst all the cacophony of the surrounding humanity.
Oscar Wilde wrote - "Romance is a privilege of the rich". I am tempted to add ..... so is etiquette , civic sense , conscience , morality and ethics ......in other words , all the supposed behavioral patterns that separate humans from their so called lesser evolved brethren. As survival pressures enmesh their web tighter, the weak societal memes are shed unabashedly in exchange for those, evidently more suited for immediate survival. What cares our old man about global warming, melting glaciers, booming oil prices and vanishing food stocks?
For all our loud boasts of conquest over nature and its laws , we are unfortunately fettered as tight as the cavemen ages ago….. simply that we choose to ignore it or bury our heads like the ostrich in ill conceived notions of superiority.
We aren’t better than other organisms really….just dressed comically for a pantomime of sorts…..indeed …. “All the world’s a zoo, and all the men and women merely caged animals” ….. the cages which are only torn down when faced by the bare realities of life and the struggle for survival.
“But where shall wisdom be found? And where is the place of understanding? Man knoweth not the price thereof ; neither is it found in the land of the living….for the price of wisdom is above rubies.”
