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ACME
As he started his journey back home from office, he was taking in the sights of the city as usual. The city never ceased to amaze him. The City of Dreams. Yet, no one was living a dream life here. No money, no shelter, no proper infrastructure. Yet they flock to the city in millions from all parts of the country. Maybe the nomenclature comes from the fact that all they do is dream, dream of a better life, a better tomorrow, never to be fulfilled. He was nearing the spot he dreaded reaching every day. Round the corner a kid would be walking a rope hung high up in the air, balancing herself with the weakest of bamboo stick while her feet rhythmically followed the drum beats. It wasn’t a terrifying sight. He just wasn’t sure whether he would be encouraging the custodians of the child to put her through another day of ordeal by paying her something or being a curmudgeon by just walking past them, seemingly oblivious to the plight of others. “I must do something to stop this, maybe setup a society or something”, he thought to himself as he dropped off a ten rupee note in the bowl.
A formative plan was hatching in his mind just as he was swept into the train by the swarm of people, all eager to rush in, as if willing the train on in their mind to take them home quickly.
Once inside, they are always more relaxed and at the same time unmindful of others. Half of them stare at their touchscreens and a few thrust their heads deep in the newspapers that they had already finished with in the morning. The rest just give into their voyeuristic instincts and peek into the screens that are already held aloft. He used to despise people who invaded privacy like this. It then occurred to him that he himself maybe an intruder into others private space. Always looking at what others are doing? Was he a voyeur too then? Before he could answer it, he was once again swept off his feet and onto the platform and his mind was blank again.
It is the festival season. Brightly lit stages, blaring loudspeakers, shamiyanas erected right in the middle of the road- everything was screaming “festivities!!” at him. But he was too busy feeling sorry for all the stray dogs on the streets. He loved dogs. And he just couldn’t stand the sight of these maggot ridden, skeletal frames. He wanted to give them food, but he knew he couldn’t feed them all. He had even avoided feeding the dogs at his colony because he was afraid he would inculcate a habit in them- an expectancy of food every day. But he also felt that need to do as much as he could. His mind was always a tussle between conflicting ideas. Cursing all the girls and guys enjoying their dandiya while the dogs were left to rot, he cast his eyes upon the stage where the music troupe where playing out tunes of old hindi songs, now tailored to dandiya beats. He was toying with the idea of setting up a “feed the dogs” challenge on social networking sites, calling for people to spend less money on festivities and more on the needy. But one look at the stage and he was again confused. The troupe were all elderly people, none of them with chests large enough to blow on the trumpets that they played. His mind was racing again “Dogs v/s Troupes”. “What about the welfare society for children growing up on the streets?”. He started worrying about himself. He was always so confused, never able to make his mind up on anything. He had reached the high-rise that gave him shelter. He felt relieved and thought “I am too tired now. I will change the world tomorrow.”
ACME
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