Vision 2120

We are all verse on the doom gloom of 21^st December, 2012. Even if that doom stops looming over us, will our future be secure enough till 2120? Only some clairvoyant could premonish that.  But considering the diminution of resources on a horrendous scale, it too seems to be elusive.

Now, this is year 2120 and we are at the same place as we were exactly a century and some 2 decades ago.  The natural resources which were in common use in 2011 are nowhere seen now, but to people’s dismay, even the non-conventional resources that were proposed to be ready in these years, either could not be developed or are out of common man’s reach. The prediction of scientists to the lapse of coal and petroleum has come true. Due to lack of petroleum and coal, power plants now only work on nuclear energy which has started causing problems of nuke waste disposal. The energy is also provided only to the crème de la crème of the society, out of the reach of common masses, the world population having reached around 200 billion. The USA is no more so called but now is divided into separate states akin USSR into CIS which was in 1993. It has been because US economy could not afford to oblige the countries which it had captured on the pretext of ‘War on terror’, namely Iraq, Iran, Afghanistan, Pakistan and some part of the gulf. In fact there’s no more country left greater than the size of Mexico. All of which have together formed ISF that is an acronym for Independent States Forum. India has also now been divided into sectarian states. Earlier in India there had been caste sub bifurcations which has led to this severing of the map. There was sub division in each religion- Hindus had shaiv and vaishnavas, muslims had shias and sunnis, jains had digamber and shwetambar, Sikh had nihang and non nihangs, Christians had catholics and non-Catholics, parsis had Zoroastrians and non-Zoroastrians and the list was unending. Now Each one has separated on religious grounds as well as sub religious grounds. The country is now just a bunch of bellicose states. Everywhere in the world the situation is similar to the one which was in Egypt, Libya and Lebanon during the jasmine revolution of 2010-11. The poor ones are plundering the affluent ones, “survival of the fittest” is implied true to word now. Due to lack of energy sources, there are no more locomotives seen other than those whose hands really go deep into the pocket. The world has got into an oligarchy. There is also a new practice adopted by the ISF, to decrease the population, which is bombing and extirpating all the confinements and places with high crime rate, leading to much carnage, ubiquitously. The faulty disposal of nuke waste has led to serious epidemics. Hospitals are brimming with patients cum residents cum soldiers. Soldiers, because their everyday struggle demands mettle much more than that of a soldier. Most of the conglomerates have run bankrupt, and there’s humongous unemployment. Even the pollution has risen to such an alarming level that no living being could imagine surviving, touching Arsenic content of 50 ppm. The season’s cycle has completely changed with the escalating temperatures, Global warming, which has even lead to sinking of many an islands including major part of Japan.

-This cataclysm could only be stopped if we use our resources politically and expediently. Else, although grim, it is very much viable of our future to much extent.      

Poverty Alleviation, no, Poverty Elevation

I am really proud to be an Indian. I do not know whether many of us have seen poverty as closely as I had done, but if you are an Indian then you’re sure being shackled, restrained from thinking the dark cloud of poverty that hovers all over the rustic. Almost all of us had had many an encounters with the burgeoning poverty, bludgeoning people to the extreme just to earn a living.

I am describing not much but just one of the protagonists which I happened to encounter, and apart from just neglecting, reached into his sphere to have an interview of him. He did report his name to be Pappu, but names really don’t signify themselves in their diaspora. They do not matter at all. He wore clothes which might have been given by some affluent family’s generous member, having the logo of the best school in the city, whose fees even if given to the boy in dreams, would seem him elusive. So, he ‘wore’ clothes (at least the namesake), he wore a lean look, perfectly emaciated, which was more revealed out of his clothes.

We now discussed his business….business? Actually his all day busy-ness was of picking rags from repudiated goods, thrown in the junk, the same place where there was a colony of pathogenic bacteria, a coterie of street dogs, savaging over the same rancid refuse, refused by everyone, but accepted by him. From the elementary Social Sciences, which I happened to learn in school, reminded me of an ‘evil’ practice of child labour, purportedly banned in India, but prevalent pragmatically, whose proof I had in front of me. He did not ever see a how a school’s wall was from within. Unfortunately like the generous clothes giver, there was none so generous to contribute to his school fee. My next question to him was about his daily wage, about which he was neither proud nor flustered in divulging. Which he claimed to be Rs.30 and bonus if his ‘owner’ pleased. Far below requirement, far below U.N.’s 2 dollar a day hedge. How can a living being survive in such a modest amount? He said that he had 3 siblings, all of whom were under the same profession. At the end of the day, the whole family would accrue their wages to get facilitated by ration shops for food. And a significant part of their wage went to his tippler father’s everyday revelry. Someday, when the accretion was not sufficing, their mother had to sleep half stomached. “Beggars have no choice”, it seemed to be very much true now. This was their diurnal; hackneyed routine, unflinching even by a feather.

After this encounter I was left contemplating that government policies were given, but how far and deep did they penetrate was the matter. For which, they seemed to flounder. Anna Hazare’s hunger strike seemed to be a viable thing which the ‘aam aadmi’ could do, which at first instance seemed to be hypocritical and an unnecessary display of power of NGO coteries. If plight of all the oppressed can be heard, the government policies can be applied diaphanously, it will be the best poverty alleviation programme my country shall see. Then on I would love my India, more, in true sense and spirits. 

A jerk-y bus journey

This is the first page of my blogging story, which has started like the many, by chance :)

A jerky bus journey

It is said that transportation is the backbone of economy. If it is so, the trio of the states MP, UP and Bihar, is sure to come in the spineless invertebrates. Particularly the experiences people have while travelling in public transport. I am lucky enough to survive these bus rides regularly, for which I thought of writing it for the historical records.

My bus journey started on ‘foot’. Yes, you got it right! On foot. After leaving from my coaching class, I reached the bus stop.  Within a few seconds, a bus came rushing to the stop, with a speed just less than the speed of light! Not exaggerating, but lesser than the speed of light of a bike moving besides it. Thus prevaricating Einstein’s theory of relativity and everything what I learnt in coaching class just some minutes ago. The bus generously stopped a few hundred meters away, making us run, thus caring for the cardiac health of the squires too.

           Alas! What a bus it was. It had grandeur equivalent to that of a stray animal-catching vehicle. The symbolic modern art made on the exterior part of the bus’ body completely arrested me, whose courtesy went to betel squirters sitting inside the bus like spitting cobras, wasting their venom in doing an articulate art work.

The tattered seats and the dilapidated bus forced me to contemplate my eligibility to travel by that bus. Whether the bus will reach my destination was a mystery and where did it begin from was a history. While analysing this, I found out that the bus had already left. But a co-traveller sympathised me that the bus was designed to move at such a speed that I could catch it at the next square also. Thus began my bus journey on foot.

Lucky enough to catch the bus at the next juncture, I felt a bit luckier when I was privileged to keep 10 fingers of my feet on the floor and the rest of my feet over another’s. The crowd in the bus was such that even the thought of travelling in a stray animal van felt to be satiating. I was also one of the fortunate ones who could find a space on handle bar to cling to and hang on. A pristine handle bar, tied with a rope at one end to the ceiling of that jerky bus.