P
answered his query with a mere nod of the head. He was comfortable here; nodding at the man’s many observations in return for
another round of whisky. He knew that in time
the man would get drunk enough to lose trail of his
thoughts and they both would tumble down a deep cavern of silence, each privy
to his own corner, alone and yet not lonely, for you know the one sitting
across you is drowning in as much muck of shit as you are yourself.
He didn't know much of him. But they were aware of each other's presence. From one corner of a room, as you turn your head towards the other, your eyes meet for a second. You don't waste your precious time acknowledging him. Nor does he. These unnamed people build a notion of collective aspiration in P's head. Aspiration,
constructed based on judgments passed by the self, that project and negate
various attributes just by seeing the form of being, the color of clothing,
accessories worn, pitch of voice, devices at disposal, pace and style of
movement.
Maybe
we’ll come as different people in different times; meeting, knowing, forsaking –
always in that order.
This heavy baggage I’ve been left with, they cannot see
but I crawl and crawl and crawl, dragging it along as I make the steep climb. They,
kids on their hips, wives by their side, wave to me with genuine affection.And
I wave back.
Maybe
I should yell at them. Tell them they are bound to break down, sooner or later.
Time will eat the suckers up. And I'll reach the peak then. And maybe then, I
could look down at these tiny blots of houses. And laugh.
The man appeared to be at ease
with himself, cocking his head sideways, looking at the
ongoing protests at a Scandinavian country over P’s shoulders.
‘This girl was a head-turner’ he says, turning his drunken gaze back. ‘One of the
reasons why many of the male employees in the company never quit their jobs.
She gave them something to imagine when they screwed their wives at night. A
life-force she was. And this was the sole reason she was kept on the job’
‘She overheard her bosses saying that today. She was devastated to
know all she was good at was to look good and started crying. But then, people
came to console her. From all corners.
You are important, says one.
That’s not true, says another.
You are our beauty with brains, the third.
The fourth went as far rubbing her shoulders out of 'concern'’
......
Anarchist politics?
Yes, it’s an
egalitarian thing. People usually associate the word anarchy with chaos,
destruction, looting of shops and the likes. But that’s not what we do. We just
question structures we’ve been forced to take for granted. A government is
synonymous to structure, an orderly way of dealing with day-to-day problems of
the common folk. That doesn’t mean there
is no space for anarchist politics. There is no point in having structures if
there isn’t somebody to keep questioning it.
That is sort of like
saying there’s no Batman without the Joker, right?
Yes, maybe you could
put it that way.
........
On
Saturday morning, much to P’s dismay, he found he had no money left. He would
search the drawers where he kept all his precious belongings; he would go
through the dirty laundry; he would call up his bank to be told by an
accountant that his account is now defunct and then finally,
after three hours spent in vain, he would give off a silent sigh and recline to
the cold comfort of his mattress.
......
Why does this country have so many incidents of
rape?
It’s the women. They way they dress up entice even
impotent men to do the deed.
How dare you accuse womenfolk of this nation? By
your stupid and outlandish claim, you mean to say if a good-looking man is to
walk around wearing nothing but shorts, we, women, would do the same ?
See lady, from time immemorial .....
