The Demonstration

It is a cool winter evening in the open. People have started to gather in groups. They are coming from their office after a hard day's work. The tiredness is showing in their slow lumbering walk. Yet there is a sparkle in their eyes. They have suffered for last so many years without any murmur. They were unable to even mumble under the breath. For years they have gone through the routine of the eleven hour working days. For years they have turned deaf to the voices of the tiny ones requesting them to attend their school functions so that they can proudly stand by them and bask in the glow of safety and love of their parents. For years they have forgotten the small talks with their wives over the cup of evening tea. For years they have forgotten to say no to invectives of their superiors . For years they have forgotten to protest, leave alone oppose, inhuman treatments and become willingly submissive . They are too timid to fight and too insecure to run. The heat inside is unbearable and the heat outside is scorching.

To-day they have come. They do not understand the intricacies of politics. They are not interested. They are simple people going with daily chores of life without any remorse or hope. They have simple pleasures and simple needs. They have simple skills. They want to work with them to earn enough to feed their family and enjoy a cosy living like the pompous cock with the kids roaming around. They have been denied. They don't have any great chance of finding it elsewhere after spending all these years in this place. They have become prisoners of their choice without a chance to escape.

To-day they have come to speak in the secured anonymity of the crowd. They do not want their individual voices to be identified. They are afraid of the consequences that may befall them . They do not want to face the burning stare of the boss. But they want to shout at the peak of their voices in the gathering to exorcise the pain they are carrying for years. Does any body hear ? It hardly matters for them. Their leaders have told them it will change if they shout. They do not know. They do not trust the sayings as they do not remember how many times they have kept to their utterings and how many times they have traded the principled stands. Yet they have come. They do not know if there is any result at the end. They just want to throw out the pains as they shout vitriolic slogans. They just want to cleanse themselves of all the pain of indignities they have suffered for years. They want to shout at the perpetrators from the safety of faceless crowd the choicest abuses that they have received for years. They do not want to pay back in revenge. They just want to throw out the pain, the abuses and the sufferings. They want to feel clean and spent to be able to start again.

The slogans are being shouted in unison. The leaders at the front are orchestrating it in a musical way. The voices don't show the faces. They rise like faceless waves. The poison inside is coming out. They are feeling relaxed. They are pretending to listen to the speeches being poured out of the podium.They do not care. They just want to shout and come clean so that they can start afresh after the release of the tension. The pile up inside need a release as otherwise they may burst at the seams. They want to live for another day.

They have dispersed without a trace. They have gone back to their little lives. They are tired after the release. They need a rest to start again.

Life

Every day morning you find people hustling and bustling, trying to cope up with their life. If you stand for a while on a spot near a square and look around you at the face of people rushing around you, you will have a hearty laugh merely watching them proceed with all the solemnity and seriousness as if to catch the most important thing in life. Then you find them collecting a pouch of milk from the diary vendor and rushing back with the same seriousness. You don't know why they have to look that dignified and bloated. Possibly leading a life is serious proposition and taking it lightly will look blasphemous.

Life is to make the stay on earth lively and do we not spoil it by all our confused ideas of dignity and seriousness ? Can we not just play the game and enjoy each moment as we turn and twist in a fluid motion. The motion itself can make our heart dance in joy . It can bring back long forgotten tunes to our lips. If words we can not remember still we can whistle the tune and tap our feet in a comic resemblance of a dancer and burst out laughing like a kid recognizing the folly and enjoying the mistake simultaneously. May be we are too busy looking for the moment of joy, the moment of achievement, the moment when everybody will look at us enviously for what we have in that moment to overlook the hours and days we spend in moving towards the moment. We choose to look for the moment and spoil the hours, days , months and years. Is it not more prudent to make the journey more enjoyable ? Do we have to struggle with the pain and perspiration only with the hope to enjoy the moment at the destination ? Is it necessary to gloss over the pleasures of travel and to preserve the memories of destinations ?

Frankly, I do not know. To each his own. To me let the journey be enjoyable. Each moment on the road is a destination and let me enjoy it for the moment I am on it. The life will be lively. That is perhaps the purpose.

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