Wednesday, August 26, 2009


It was just another day in life of Makhrand; get up at 7am sharp, clean yourself, rush and run, catch the 8.15am local train to work, reach the station, wait for the bus, push, shove, ticket, “Sir, make yourself comfortable. I do not mind standing”, get down, daily chai and a smoke, lift to the fifth floor, swipe swipe, “Hello, Meena”, lights on, computer power-on, run to washroom, fresh water on face, get back to the seat, type the password, open the browser and we are working in five, four, three, two, one...

It doesn't bother him that a certain politician was killed today, right outside his building. It isn't going to change his life in anyway, well, particularly. The fact that his neighbour is going to get a few thousand rupees to keep shut about the killing doesn't bring about a change in his lifestyle. He works on.

His job matters, the twenty-thousand rupees getting deposited by the end of the month matter, everything else is God's business. Family matters, giving away twelve thousand rupees to his father at the end of the month, so he can run away to his village and waste away his son's hard-earned money in alcohol and gambling habits - matters, a new lady co-worker joining the work place matters, “I am still unmarried” matters, getting employee-of-the-year award matters, getting shouted at for not completing the day's tasks matters, sitting for fourteen hours without proper food matters, having a smoke after a tiring day at work matters, catching the 11.30 pm train to home matters.

Alpesh wasn't the fittest of people in the world now, with his thrombocytopenia. A good looking, smart kid, with fifty-million friends to choose from, jazzy shades, rich boots and leather jackets, he is what movie-stars are made of. But what has that got to do with being rich? What has anything got to do with being son of a doting, powerful father, who only had cars and parties to offer to his two children? Seema was happy with her husband in the UK, while the much younger sibling, Alpesh was working his way in a corporate.

Ring, ring! Alarm clock. Get up at 9. Welcome sunshine, juice, wash, breakfast, “Bye, mum”, car, cruise, honk-honk, park, lift, swipe swipe, “Morning, Meena”, “Hey” and “Hi”, “Hey Makhrand”, password, log-in, mail, chat, phone, “Reached work, mum”, work, eat, break, work, break, work, 6.30pm, swipe-swipe, lift, car, girlfriend, muah-muah, car, home, eat, friends, beer, home, sleep is life.

Reaching work doesn't matter, the twenty-six thousand five hundred, that get deposited in the bank by the month end, don't matter, a pretty lady colleague at work, well, matters, “I have a girlfriend” matters, flamboyant lifestyle matters, Makhrand is my best bud at work, matters, Makhrand is over-worked, doesn't matter, Makhrand is my boss and yet highly underpaid, doesn't matter, finishing my day's tasks matters, a politician was killed outside Makhrand's place, doesn't matter. Life is a day's worth of living, everyone else thinking otherwise is an idiot.

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