Writing is like T20 batting. If you block, you might as well retire to the pavilion! -- Pete Langman
Expat in Germany

Monday, March 23, 2015

Circle has no Ends

This is the first of the series of articles involving a young, passive, educated Indian who only does anything but think of bettering the country. This series is a tribute to the "common man" of one of the most imaginative and not silent cartoonist, Rasipuram Krishnaswamy Iyer Lakshman. You said it sir!
The name's Rajnikanth! Naam tho sunaa hoga! But then it would be routine, so I will use my favourite name, Mahati

Mahati like every other day, stood on the platform waiting for her never-on-time local train from Vidyanagar to Lingampally. After a long wait which included watching the same advertisement on the television on the platform for 23 times, she got into the train and obviously had to wait till two stations before the destination to get a seat. As Mahati sat down looking at the passing buildings and dump yards, about to drift into thoughts about the fate of the country, the train stopped at a station and passengers poured in.

Mahati's attention was caught by a beggar who entered the train along with the crowd with her 3 year old child singing famous songs hijacked by beggars in the local train. After successfully reproducing the songs in a most repugnant way, she sat down on the floor in front of her, counting the hour's earnings, bundling certain things and carefully tucking them below her elbow, staring out of the door. Mahatis attention turned to the child.

It was obvious that the kid though is quite well fed, was growing up in poor conditions. There was no proper clothing and it did not seem that the child would be ever sent to school, forget getting quality education. Mahati's thoughts drifted again. What if the kid was given proper clothing and sent to school? The biggest problem is at the grassroot level. Primary education. If that is achieved, the country reaches heights unknown before. Just then, the child started spitting on the train floor and making designs. The mother was still in her thoughts, looking out of the door. Only if children are well directed and properly taken care of, Mahati thought, he/she could be anything hem wanted to become. Who knows, the discipline lacking child could become like the trim bodied, neatly dressed policeman standing in one corner of the train compartment, only if educated. Every body in the country should go to primary school, high school and later get atleast a degree for the country to prosper, concluded Mahati.

The train stopped at her destination - the final stop of the journey. Mahati was walking towards the exit as the policeman from the compartment crossed her, walking briskly. Mahati felt proud as she saw an elegant public servant and hoped one day the kid would be like this and would not grow into a person who spit at the wrong places.
The policeman turned his face left and smoothly spit on the platform.