Sunday, November 9, 2008

seven trebles


I’ve seen cities with boundaries. Strong, concrete bricks separating miles and miles of broken land. And I’ve seen cities with an overwhelming calm snaking down the roads, the mute sensations of people’s dreams, and countless homes where people come and go –playing silly games with life. If there’s one universal problem that threatens progress, I’d say it’d be poverty. In the city where I grew, midst the grease and sweat of unvocal pain, there is no corner for sympathy. For rickshaw pullers and diseased orphans twiddling with fate and illiteracy, what value does politics hold? If there ever was such a thing called clean democracy, we’d still be mooching for profit and commercial gain. In the city of joy and endless sorrow, I’ve seen freedom in the eyes of a million strangers, suppressed by society and fake gender equity. Houses that squeal of ill-fated wives, beaten and bruised because infertility is their fault. In a time of thwarted change, do you expect race and ethnicity to slide away from social fabric? Never! As long as my people value people over business, those children on pavements will eat mud for survival.

Turn the kaleidoscope to this fertile soil, and you see business and commerce racing past the bricks of emotions and dreams. I’ve chosen not to overlook the graffiti on the walls. A violent patch of pastel and blood, war and liberation and instrumental harmonics. Even in this game of profession and wealth, where opportunities flow past the grips of the unconcerned, my people don’t lose. This is not a stage for black-ties or rags, but a place where you voice your worth. And I have learnt to value this vicious cycle. A beautiful spectrum of scarlet and gold dissolving into the white of November rain. They will change into a different palette some other time, braving universality and globalization. Haven’t you seen enough in politics?