7 views
A Modern Man Returns Home
On a normal day, an average man finished his work, and returned home. Tired, bored and miserable...he wandered his eyes around the world around him and took in the sights ,the smell and the sounds.
He saw people, all around him, all sorts and kinds. Going about. Talking, walking, living about. Nothing came in his mind. Nothing, as he saw the beggar, nothing as he saw the naked child and nothing as he saw the homeless woman. He looked around but saw only HIMSELF, HIS life, his day's reflection in the horizon. He reflected on his day's work. He thought about his drudgery and fatigue ... and how much this job. He thought, as his car crossed the road, unseeing a red light, while a family on the side walk tried to cross the road. The man almost ran over them, but he didn't notice them, he did nothing wrong they did, that's what he thought. Alive but terrified, the family shouted threats to the attempted murderer which fell to deaf ears.
After about a kilometre he found himself in the headache of all Indians... traffic. The subdued fatigued man transformed...he became the angry man...and he takes out his anger on the horn. The cause of the traffic is half a kilometre away from him...chances of them hearing his outburst are slim, but the horn is just so SATISFYING.
He waits and waits...and presses the horn harder, HITS the horn harder. There's no effect but, there's satisfaction. Defeated he gazed around, he saw a party of mourners walking down the street... carrying the dead to the cemetery, a long line of people, walking behind someone who is dead...who's in a car, inside a glass casket...being driven by an unrelated person, a paid driver, to the cemetery. The man felt the irony... the man also felt nothing... but being a Hindu..and forced by habit, he tapped his head with two fingers and repeated it... twice, and looked no further. He didn't wonder who had died, he simply thought "there are quite a lot of people following... the man must have been important."
It was followed by another party. A group of students following an idol of a Goddess, the Goddess of Knowledge, behind a truck being driven again by an unknown driver... a believer, perhaps... educated maybe, or maybe not. The man looked at the students and wondered, "shouldn't they be in school..." Moments later, the traffic subsided and he went on.
His house was in a corner of the street. He reached and rested in his favourite sofa. Turned on his TV. Looked for the news channel. A great politician had come over to his state and was making promises of great changes. It was all over the news. The man's tired eyes brightened, his tiredness temporarily subsided, he got up as if jolted by happiness and thought to himself, "Perhaps the opposition party will conduct a strike tomorrow... Which means... HOLIDAY."
He saw people, all around him, all sorts and kinds. Going about. Talking, walking, living about. Nothing came in his mind. Nothing, as he saw the beggar, nothing as he saw the naked child and nothing as he saw the homeless woman. He looked around but saw only HIMSELF, HIS life, his day's reflection in the horizon. He reflected on his day's work. He thought about his drudgery and fatigue ... and how much this job. He thought, as his car crossed the road, unseeing a red light, while a family on the side walk tried to cross the road. The man almost ran over them, but he didn't notice them, he did nothing wrong they did, that's what he thought. Alive but terrified, the family shouted threats to the attempted murderer which fell to deaf ears.
After about a kilometre he found himself in the headache of all Indians... traffic. The subdued fatigued man transformed...he became the angry man...and he takes out his anger on the horn. The cause of the traffic is half a kilometre away from him...chances of them hearing his outburst are slim, but the horn is just so SATISFYING.
He waits and waits...and presses the horn harder, HITS the horn harder. There's no effect but, there's satisfaction. Defeated he gazed around, he saw a party of mourners walking down the street... carrying the dead to the cemetery, a long line of people, walking behind someone who is dead...who's in a car, inside a glass casket...being driven by an unrelated person, a paid driver, to the cemetery. The man felt the irony... the man also felt nothing... but being a Hindu..and forced by habit, he tapped his head with two fingers and repeated it... twice, and looked no further. He didn't wonder who had died, he simply thought "there are quite a lot of people following... the man must have been important."
It was followed by another party. A group of students following an idol of a Goddess, the Goddess of Knowledge, behind a truck being driven again by an unknown driver... a believer, perhaps... educated maybe, or maybe not. The man looked at the students and wondered, "shouldn't they be in school..." Moments later, the traffic subsided and he went on.
His house was in a corner of the street. He reached and rested in his favourite sofa. Turned on his TV. Looked for the news channel. A great politician had come over to his state and was making promises of great changes. It was all over the news. The man's tired eyes brightened, his tiredness temporarily subsided, he got up as if jolted by happiness and thought to himself, "Perhaps the opposition party will conduct a strike tomorrow... Which means... HOLIDAY."
