Sunday, September 22, 2013

Where are we headed?

The colourful world of yesteryears is no more
It’s survived by a bleak world of hate and killing and pain….
A life riddled with sorrow.

When love gets thin, faults get thick
There’s nobody to blame but our thinking
You, me, he and she; Us, they, never we.

Is this what life was meant to be?
Did HE mean for us to fight and kill?
It’s about time we stopped to think.

This path leads to hell
Of destruction and pain
Of loneliness and fatigue
There is no gain.

Where are we headed?
At this rate there’s no tomorrow

Just one big graveyard called the world.

~ Rukma

Thursday, July 4, 2013

Queue-r Quirks


Is it a genetic malfunction? Or an allergy? Or an inherent deficiency? Or a cultural inheritance? Or OSD? Or Indiscipline? Or just plain stupidity? What is it that makes us not follow a queue and compulsorily break it?

No matter where, when or what the age group, waiting in queue seems a difficult task indeed. The few sensible ones who do respect a queue and follow it stringently, are left looking like fools as every other person jostles ahead or pushes his/her way in between or gives a saccharine sweet smile along with a ridiculous ‘reason’ for the ‘need’ to go ahead.

One would think the ‘fear of losing out on an opportunity’ is what prompts a person to break a queue. But then how do you explain the desperate breaking of a queue when waiting to board a flight? Is it possible to miss a flight only because one is last in line when boarding the aircraft? Or are they worried about having to travel standing, if they board last?

You may be chuckling as you read this, wondering what has caused this angst. Picture this – I’m standing in line to enter the theatre at the Marathi Film Festival. A ‘gentleman’ excuses himself and throws his ‘need to meet the organiser’ reason at us and gets ahead. My face is a pretty shade of pink. Before I can admire my new skin tone in the reflection on the window pane, I find my nose in hair drenched in pure Goan coconut oil. Turning around I manage to get a glimpse of the ‘lady’, who’s bulldozed through the queue like she’s making her way through a field of sugarcane. After many such encounters, the queue finally starts moving, only to melt into a crowd. Next thing I know, I’m crushed against the door. Fortunately, before I can pass out, I find myself inside the theatre, aka Mumbai local train ishtyle. I’m thrown in by a wave of people, with not an iota of effort from my side. Drat! I can’t admire the pink tone of my skin now. It’s changed to a flaming red.