THE MIRAGE CALLED REALITY

          The lingua franca had not found a definite adjective to describe the flamboyant construction of that palace. With lustrous glass walls, resin-coated ceilings, ‘grade one’ furniture and adequate place for moving here and there, not to mention the air-conditioner which has become a necessity in this metropolitan city these days, the construction had everything that a common man cannot dream about. This could shelter more than 1,000 people at a time, and was completely open for public access, but was accessible to the creamy layer of the society only because people had to pay to get a glimpse of this heaven.

          Inequality did it depict right from the mere fact that it was constructed at an elevated place, metaphorically so to suggest the aam aadmis not to dream of paying a visit to that luxury. The daily wagers – the coolie, the fruit vendor, the mechanic, the clerk, the apprentice, the sweeper, the cleaner – had to just remain jaw-dropped on seeing this glimmering beauty while they waded through the city to fill their bellies at least once a day, and provide something for their families.

          The population needed for the construction of this posh place almost statistically matched the human resources required for building Taj Mahal, and it went on expanding its limits, alleviating the misery of the beings that were just human. Just the sight of the overwhelming beast made the socially downtrodden sect feel a bit more inferior, as they let out a sigh of incompetence for being unable to scale the prowess of the so-called educated people and enjoy the rarest feat of paying a visit to the haven of their dreams.

          It did rain, and rain brought in pain to the city. These common people were the first to be affected and they had to get to an abode of safety at the earliest. The immediate survival instinct caught hold of them as they either ran frantically through the water-clogged streets or just stood helplessly on top of the multi-storied buildings. Eventually, all the modes of commuting were getting disconnected one by one and the water level was also rising up like a snake crawling over the creeper.

          The gigantic structure finally embraced people, although they had to pay something, and all the commoners got into it. The inside of it was warm and cozy enough, and could accommodate them well enough. It was every bit satisfactory but what seemed like the utmost dream for those people didn’t matter to them because albeit the chance of entering, there was no hope. Yet, it had become a necessity now and there was no escaping Lord Varuna. Finally, the dreams were accomplished but nobody felt elated for it. Because ultimately, there is no other place that could provide as much comfort as OUR home.

P.S.: In case of any ambiguity, I would like to clarify that this is on the Chennai Metro Rail. Over the course of time, the Chennai floods had made it nearly impossible for the buses to swim across the waters, and people from all walks of life had to access this mode of transport despite the charges levied being too much. And, I also heard that the transportation ticket was discounted temporarily, but no matter what, this METRO JOURNEY that was a far-fetched dream for everyone became real at a point, however with no satisfaction.

Reality sucks. Always. When you have resources, you don’t get situations. When you have situations, you don’t get resources. Just try to enjoy the contradictions and move on J

COMETH THE HOUR…

          Standing in the hot sun in the city was itself a big task. And, he had a bigger responsibility than that. The heat of the task vested in him was several times more demanding than the radiations of the sun. All the people who were believed to be the saviours had already abandoned the fraternity at the eleventh hour and it was now up to him to rejuvenate the shambles, and restore faith and hope in the minds of people.

          Acclimatizing to the situation, he started analysing the surroundings; he could do a perfect SWOT analysis just by staring deep down. There was much work to be done in order to reclaim the damages done, but everything couldn’t be rushed. He had to wait, do the petty chores first and then cool things down a bit, after which he would perform the clean-up task.

          Challenges were always a part of his life. Right from the day he started inspiring people, hardships had been coming along and he had been overcoming them with sheer willpower. He had done a lot of relief measures which had spoiled his physical well-being every now and then but nothing would stop him from working towards raising optimism and a ray of belief.

          Humbly, he started pulling the debris and sweeping the place so as to make it easy for the traffic to get streamlined. He was also running here and there to accomplish smaller tasks that were the need of the hour. It didn’t bother him that he had to do everything by himself while others just watched haplessly. It didn’t seem to him that what he was doing was a thing beyond imagination of a normal human being with average Intelligence Quotient.

          In due course of time, he got used to the task and started working belligerently towards restoring normalcy. He knew when he had to accelerate his task, and that he did with utmost perfection. En route to his mammoth job, neither did he let out a sigh nor a swearing remark. Everything was just as part of the proceedings for him as Sun rising in the East daily. The vibe was now getting positive with the outsiders encouraging him, and his partner now realized he also had something to do. Both of them started toiling now.

          Near came the end of the mission, but that didn’t stop him one bit in terms of the sincerity and temperamental aspects. The arduous day in heat had resulted in cramps and spasms but he hung on there, wanting to complete the agenda. He was still concentrating diligently in the task at hand; he looked like an engineer who was surface finishing the workpiece, or a sculptor who would chisel the fillets and chamfers with caution. When the task was finally done, there was rapturous noise and people congratulated him for achieving what seemed wildly improbable. But even then, he maintained his calm and composure. He knew praises would pour in, and faults would flood in, but he was Him. Just maintaining that childlike enthusiasm, he walked out of the place. His work had been done.

P.S.: In case my respectable readers don’t understand what this is all about, this is a tribute to Sachin Tendulkar for all his knocks, especially at Chennai Chepauk M A Chidambaram Stadium. Now try reading the piece again, and you’ll find it pretty good I guess. He made India walk out fist-pumping when we had to chase 387 against England in the fourth innings in a Test match in 2009. He smashed 155 and belittled a legend named Shane Warne at Chennai in 1998. He scored 136 against Pakistan and brought the team closer to victory, and two of the three knocks had him cramping and suffering.

P.P.S. 1: Everyone writes Sachin tributes on account of his birthday so I thought it would be usual. But, the Sachinist in me wouldn’t let me stay in peace unless I write this one.

P.P.S. 2: The italicized words in the piece might give a clue, and hey, don’t forget to notice the first letters of all paragraphs. Happy re-reading J