Bending the Scales of Justice

This article appeared in the June issue of the online monthly magazine Orange19. Check it out here and check out he June issue here.

June 7, 2010 - The air has the stench of alienation. The journalists, the activists and the victims are ordered to stay out of the courtroom as the 100 pages of verdict are being read. Seven accused, two years imprisonment with a fine of Rs. 1,01,750 each. Submit Rs. 25,000, and you could be granted a bail immediately.

Such was the gross impunity with which the ‘justice’ was carried out on this fateful day. Union Carbide top man Warren Anderson safely ‘absconding’ since long, it was the victims who had to tread the barren path through more than 25 years of hell. And today, the ‘justice’ mocks at their faces.

The Supreme Court judgement of September 13, 1996 - which converted the offence from culpable homicide not amounting to murder (with maximum punishment up to 10 years) to rash and negligent act causing death (punishable up to a maximum of 2 years) – evidently tied down the hands of Chief Justice Magistrate (CJM) Mohan P. Tiwari. But there seems to be a greater connivance on the part of the state and central governments that allowed Anderson to flee from India under what seemed to be US pressure. “House arrest or no house arrest, or bail or no bail, I am free to go home..There is a law of the United States..India, bye bye, thank you” were his final words before he left the country. If you read those words closely, his scoff is almost audible.

On the fateful night of December 2-3, 1984, the poisonous Methyl Isocyanate (MIC) leaked from one of the tanks, in which it was stored in large quantities, killing 2,500 people immediately and 1,500 more subsequently, according to the official estimates. Other estimates put the total death toll at around 15,000. Defects in the plant like bulk storage of MIC despite common knowledge that a leak could cause havoc, possible corroding material in pipelines and in valves like iron, copper, zinc and tin, a faulty refrigeration system – the working of which was a stated necessity and could have provided a lot more reaction time, no safety guidelines provided to people living in the areas near the plant by UCIL despite the awareness of the possibility of a leak, no alarm system to check the quality of MIC before it was stored in the tanks – another stated necessity, only highlight the already emotive issue of corporate accountability. One of the ‘absconding’ accused, the US based Union Carbide Corporation (UCC) – the parent company of Union Carbide India Limited (UCIL) – had also released an Operational Safety Survey Report, dated July 28, 1982, prepared by a team of experts; the report showed that there were a number of deficiencies in the maintenance of the MIC unit. This report strongly points towards the extreme callousness displayed by the accused despite knowledge of the bending of rules that was prevalent. It is a travesty of justice, to say the least, that the people who never felt a tinge of guilt are still at large enjoying the immunity from the Indian justice system.

Another seeming connivance emerges when you look closely. UCC had a share of 50.9 per cent in UCIL. In 1973, UCIL had entered into an agreement with the parent company, according to which UCC was to provide UCIL with the best manufacturing information then available. The 1996 Supreme Court judgement also allowed the shares owned by UCC to be sold to raise money for the construction of a hospital by the Bhopal Hospital Trust (BHT), a body created by UCC. Thus it became all the more difficult for the prosecution to prove that the top people of UCC sitting in the US knew all about what was going on in their subsidiary in India.

A great paradox, which emerged during the trial, was in the title of the case itself. It read State of Madhya Pradesh through the CBI vs Warren Anderson and others. Strange it is that the verdict did not even mention the name of Warren Anderson. The case accusing him of culpable homicide not amounting to murder is still pending. But the erroneous title of the case gives the false impression that the case against Anderson et al is closed as well.

The levee seems to be on the verge of breaking for the Congress which suddenly finds itself in a morass of its own wrongdoing. Apart from the opposition parties aiming for the kill, voices of dissent can be heard even from within its own walls. The latest move by the Congress of appointing a Group of Ministers (GoM) to look into the matter seems like a desperate scurry for cover. The latest in the series of events is the recommendations of the GoM of a hike in compensation for the victims, review of the unfair verdicts, and a fresh effort for the extradition of the fugitive Anderson. If the suggestion for enhanced compensation for the victims is accepted and implemented fairly, then this might be the only silver lining for the victims as well as for the party which claims itself as the saviour of the aam aadmi. The aim for extradition of Anderson is as much a non-starter as it is unrealistic. The government could not convince the US government to extradite Headley for the heinous crime that is so fresh in the minds of every Indian. So a similar hope for Anderson is like wishing for the stars - Quixotic and impractical.

The irony rides high when one considers that Barack Obama expects British Petroleum to pay up to $20 billion as the total clean up costs. The total loss of human lives amounted to 11. And the settlement seems to be going into completion soon after the spill is fully contained. Compare that with 28 years of uncaring silence by the Indian state and a puny compensation by the Supreme Court verdict in 1996 to rub it in. Let us keep our fingers crossed that the government does not yet again fail to deliver due justice to all.

It is all summed up in what an activist said of the pitiable state: “This is definitely not what we were waiting for. In 2006, the Prime Minister promised us an empowered commission that would look into the rehabilitation of survivors. Till today the commission has not been formed. What the government has demonstrated over the years is that the lives of ordinary citizens are expendable. The Prime Minister has told us that the Bhopals will happen but the country must progress. In Bhopal, first there was an industrial disaster, then there was medical disaster and now what we are watching is a judicial disaster.”

Subdued Super Saturday

The hum of the AC has inconspicuously settled in the background. The accented baritone of Evan has ceased to seem uncommon and has now blended itself with the monotonic drone. I, with a subdued effort, try to keep my eyes open despite the awareness that they must be bloodshot by now – the way they always are whenever I’m seduced by Lady Slumber, especially in such lectures. We flank one end of the rectangular table as Evan scribbles something incomprehensible on the white board which, to my mind, closely resembles the gibberish that I had a habit of writing when I was 3. Digvijay neighbouring me on my left stifles a monstrous yawn. It is raining outside – as I noticed when I made a sojourn to the washroom in the hope of watering down my unceasing desire to visit dreamland, but in vain – and the rain makes me think of the rising anticipation of what lay ahead on the weekend – whatever remained of it.

Today is a Saturday and the vanity of the evident brutality – that is, me sitting in a conference room of the MNC I work for – is a nudging reminder of my ongoing suffering. The gloomy prospect of working on a Super Saturday – a Saturday which hosts a Germany vs. Argentina football world cup quarter final should be called a Super Saturday, no less! – the gloomy prospect should have looked appealing to, in my opinion, not even the workaholic ‘techies’ – as they like to be called. But here we all are, including me I admit, wasting away a perfect Saturday afternoon – though there was not much prospect for enjoyment outside of home because of the rain, but, to me, perfect nonetheless. The flowing reverie of my thoughts was impaled by the now sweet sounding voice of Evan wrapping up the session. I gathered my wits, along with my pen and notebook, and scampered out the room to the environs of freedom and an evening of, I hope, good football.

The Dream

I could feel the dampness streaming across my forehead. But I dare not wipe it off for fear of losing my concentration. It would be difficult to swim through the bright ball of fire glowing some distance ahead of me. But I desperately wanted to see what lay on the other side of it. The ball was very near now. I could feel its heat starting to incinerate the hair on my elbows that were extended ahead of me. My head started to spin the way it did, benignly, after two pints of beer. I was losing my focus. The dampness of my forehead had started to accumulate and then flow through my eye lashes- I still did not close my eyes. But it was becoming unbearable. Worst of all, I was beginning to founder. The ball was contracting. With a sudden realization, I knew I would not make it through. It was all a mistake. I wanted to scurry back, but I knew it was too late. My flesh was burning. And then my eyes.

I stared at the bedside lamp for the whole two minutes it took for my heartbeat to slow down. The recurring dream. I pulled myself off the bed and walked to the kitchen without my slippers. The light of the refrigerator, as I opened it, felt refreshingly alive. I took out a bottle of water and walked to the open backyard. The moon was frowning angrily at me. But as I kept staring into its face, I realized the menacing glower was just an indifferent smile. The whiff of cold air licking off the trickle on my forehead as I drank the water made me think of my helpless state. The same dream had driven me off my bed for six years before one morning I woke up refreshed after an uninterrupted slumber. The dream had stopped pricking me just like that. And here I was, two years later, bathing in the frigid moonlight, jolted by the re-emergence of my nemesis.

Nutrition: Thought for Food Should be the Government's Food for Thought

Copenhagen Consensus, a project headed by a panel of leading economists, seeks to offer solutions to complicated social-economic problems. In May 2008, the Copenhagen Consensus panel considered 30 options and ranked the provision for micronutrients as the world’s best investment for development. The underlying reasons are abound.


I will start off with some facts first. Approximately one-third of all children in the developing countries under the age of five are Vitamin-A deficient. In India, 330,000 children die each year from Vitamin-A deficiency. Those that survive infancy may have very low immunity later on in life, and their bodies may be weak, prone to disease. Some of them may have congenital defects which might surface later on in life, while others may become blind at birth. In short, chances of them going very far in school are abysmally slim. And we should not forget the fact that most of these undernourished children are from very poor families.


Iron deficiency anemia during pregnancy results in 115,000 deaths throughout the world each year, accounting for one fifth of total maternal deaths. It is a profoundly sad paradox that the country that takes pride in calling itself the next big superpower has the worst Vitamin-A rates in the world in children below the age of 5 years - 57% of the children in India are deficient in Vitamin A while the deficiency percentage for iron is 69%. 33% children in India suffer from iodine deficiency. The most insidious aspect of this is that the cost to minimize this mass-deficiency is minimal. It is the political will that is missing. And it is a shame that this fact itself does not make most of the highly talked-of Indian middle class sit up and take notice, let alone be bewildered by the facts. It is too engrossed in its apathetic attitude towards the pathetic plight of the people of their own country.


If India wants to address the problem of the ever widening gap between those who can afford and those who cannot, leaving behind its children and women is not justified by any yardstick. The government has to work hand in hand with non-profit organizations that are always ready to share their reach and resources for a noble cause. One such organization is the Micronutrient Initiative, based in Ottawa, under the aegis of the Canadian government. The organization has been active in many countries and it has delivered tremendous results. Micronutrient Initiative is a live example of how effective and affordable vitamins, minerals and other micronutrients can be. Vitamin A doses cost about 2 cents each and only 2 annual doses per child are required. Cost of iodization of salt is 5 cents per person per year. Micronutrient Initiative has developed a nutri-candy that fulfils most of the daily requirements of vitamins A, C and iron. The tests of this candy in Haryana and West Bengal have shown a 15% reduction in anemia and deficiencies in Vitamin A. Due to encouraging support of the Canadian establishment, between 1993 and 2007, Micronutrient Initiative has played a huge role in reducing the number of countries with iodine deficiency disorders as a major public health concern from 110 to 47. And there is a bright scope in the future. For example, approximately, 1.5 million children in the world die every year due to diarrhea, most of whom belong to India. Providing those children with zinc supplements, which bolsters the immune system, could reduce the number of deaths by as many as 20%. And the cost of zinc supplements per person per year is just one dollar. A puny amount, considering the huge amounts of money siphoned off by the Indian bureaucrats every year.


The following are the cost effective solutions offered by Micronutrient Initiative that are ready to be scaled up with help from the governments:
I. Fortification
- Fortifying flour and other staple crops with Vitamin A, folic acid, iron and zinc has been an effective means of reducing anemia and birth defects.
- Salt iodization reduces goiter and improves cognitive development. In communities where iodine intake is sufficient, average IQ is shown to be on average 13 points higher than in iodine-deficient communities.
II. Supplementation
- Where a population is at risk of Vitamin A deficiency, providing young children with Vitamin A supplementation every six months reduces mortality by an average of 23%.
- Zinc supplementation, given with oral rehydration therapy, can reduce the duration and severity of acute diarrhea.


Iron Intensification Program by the Government of Nepal, with the help of Micronutrient Initiative, has drastically reduced anemia rates in women since its inception in Nepal. If India hopes to tap the huge skilled human capital that will be at its beck and call in a few years from now, it has to learn something from our neighbour country and Canada, and wake up from its slumber of lethargy and indifference to do the needful.

When Death Whispered in My Ear

How often do we complain about our life? One just has to take a real hard look around and one notices everyone carping over unsatisfied desires, unfulfilled cravings. Little do we realize the importance of this life, whatever we have. Many a times, people have acknowledged the unpredictability of life only once they experience a defining moment which shatters all their hitherto presumed ethos. Let me take you to the night of February, the 17th, 2010, to explain what I mean.

Sudhanshu is comfortably steering the Mahindra Scorpio down the road to Chandigarh. We are returning from Hisar from the marriage of a friend’s sister. Prateek is placed in the navigator’s seat. I’m listening to Remember Me Lover by Porcupine Tree with a single earphone cocooned comfortably in my left ear; Bulla, sitting on my left, is listening to the I-pod from the other earphone. Jassi is sitting on the other end of the back seat, while Sangwan and Tanuj occupy the perpendicularly placed hind-seats at the back. The road has narrowed down a bit in this stretch. Vehicles, big and small, pass us by on the other side, the glare from the oncoming head lights blinding us each time. The vehicle runs at around 100 km per hour, though the speedometer of the rented vehicle does not function to vindicate that. The clock shows 9:31 pm. It has been barely 10 minutes since we started after halting to wolf down paranthas for dinner. It is while I’m trying to focus on the ethereality of the song when I, like all of us in the car, notice that the vehicle passing us by on the other side was no ordinary vehicle. It is a tractor carrying with it a huge pile of dried hay on its back, with the width of the hay far exceeding what could be assumed as the actual width of the vehicle, looking at its headlights. The glare, blinding us like it does, does not make the line of the thick stacks of hay protruding from the sides of the vehicle visible to us. So it is only when our vehicle just crosses the line of the headlights of that tractor when Sudhanshu, along with the rest of us, notices the thick stacks of hay protruding from its sides, which make the actual width of the vehicle twice its original measurement. Picture driving at a hundred km per hour, and suddenly you realize that the road ahead of you, a puny 5-7 metres ahead, is blocked and the only way out is to steer sharply towards the left, out of the line of the hay stacks. So this is what Sudhanshu does. Our Mahindra Scorpio makes a crisp left turn, exhibited sharply, at a hundred. Before we could consider ourselves blessed for being forgiven by the ominous stacks of hay, Sudhanshu has to take a sharper right to steer our vehicle back towards the narrow road. And this is when we feel our vehicle on twos. Two wheels, in case you are wondering. Let me slow down the time for you people to picturize and vicariously feel what we felt. My minds continually wavers between the two extreme thoughts – we will make it comfortably back on the road; oh no, we are not going to make it. Let me be clear when I say this – had Sudhanshu been a bit lax in pulling back the vehicle to the road with moderate strokes of the steering wheel, or had he been less attentive, had his reflexes been slower than they were, either we would have slammed into the stacks of hay, giving an angular momentum to our vehicle at a hundred (imagine that!), or, had we come unscathed from the stacks of hay but had our vehicle not been pulled back after that, it would have upended sideways and would have undergone numerous somersaults on the unforgiving tarmac before we could count our remaining bones, that is, in case we could count at all. But life has a way of giving you another chance just at the moment you feel everything is lost. This is exactly what happened next. Miraculously, we found our vehicle steadying on the road, its right to left, left to right oscillations getting less wild each time. And that is when we realized what just happened. It all took not more than one and a half seconds.

All of us, awestruck, exchanged our thoughts on our lucky escape for most of the remaining journey. The most serendipitous thing about the event was that at our stop for dinner, Sudhanshu had asked everyone what we would like to do in case we have only five more minutes to live. Little had we known then that life has a defining moment in store for us, barely 10 minutes away. Remember Me Lover (serendipitous again, eh?) by Porcupine Tree is the song that I would have been intently listening to at my last breath, had life decided to not give me another chance. This event reinforced my beliefs with respect to everything in life. Enjoy every moment as if it is your last. Stop crying over spilt milk. Like the Rolling Stones song goes: “You can’t always get what you want. But if you try sometimes, well, you might find – You get what you need”. Life is short; only a big heart is necessary and sufficient.

EDUCATION QUAGMIRE

A discussion about the Indian education system in our Group Discussion today made me think about various things. First of all, what is the government doing to address the glaring loopholes in the Indian education system? Secondly, how much of what the government is doing in the name of development is being implemented in a proper manner? Agreed, our HRD minister Mr Kapil Sibal has been tinkering with the board exams to bring out their true essence, and he has also been touring the world’s best universities and trying to convince them to open a campus in India, but so far it has been a lonely road at the top for him. The government has made a provision for free education for children in the age group of 6 to 14 years, but what about the quality of education? I do not see any bigwig in the government talking about that. According to a study, 71% of schools in India have 3 or less than 3 teachers. The student to faculty ratio in India is 26:1, which is shameful when we compare it to the global average of 15:1. When are we going to address the problem of dearth of quality teachers? Although the sixth pay commission has made a commendable effort of bringing up the salaries of teachers at par with those of people with other professions, but there is no denying the brutal fact that teaching is not something which is looked up to in our society anymore. There used to be a time when a guru was revered and respected like a God. But things have taken a turn for the worse now. A teacher working for the honour that comes with the job is a rarity. A teacher looking forward to educate the masses is rarer still.
Almost every day, each one of us, in his daily dose of quotidian life, realizes that the touted GDP growth rate of India is just a façade to conceal the real face of the country. A country, where 80% of the households earn an income of less than Rs 10,000, calling itself an emerging economy is ludicrous; calling itself the next superpower is, well, laughable. We, as a country, are not going anywhere until we address the morass of backwardness – both economic and mental. And the shortest path across this slough is by working at the roots – primary education. One reason for economic disparity in India is because a person who has studied up to 10th standard from a state board would not be able to rub shoulders with a person from, say, CBSE board. There needs to be a common platform to address the issue of multiple education boards in India. Also, the infrastructure – which includes the teachers, benches, black boards and other equipment which are generally included under the basic definition of a classroom; books and notebooks provided for by the very government which is earning brownie points for “providing” free education – needs to be developed. All students should be uniformly addressed up to 10th standard so that a person from a rural area or from a backward class need not require reservation for himself in secondary and higher education. This would in turn give rise to meritocracy and less of deserving students will be left behind in the race. I know words are easy and acting upon them is where all the effort lies, but it is high time that our politicians walk the talk and give us – the proud citizens of this country who are eagerly looking up to them – something tangible, so that we can tread with our head held high, no matter where in the world we are.

Infotainment - Fodder for the Gullible

“Mass hysteria is sweeping across India's capital after reports of a super-powered monkey man, with hairy body and sharp metal claws, attacking people as they sleep on their roofs in the sweltering heat.” This is what an online newspaper read on 15th May, 2001. I vividly remember the incident, as I was into my teen years with some amount of awareness of issues – at least of the spicy ones. The topic was a rage in my school. The debates that I had with my friends mostly centered on the repercussions and the meaning of the presence of a hairy monster amongst the inhabitants of the most important city of the country. Seldom did we dwell on the authenticity of these attacks. The “monkey man attacks” got plenty of spot-light with the major dailies providing much of the front page space to the news items of the bizarre phenomenon gripping the capital. Soon, like everything else, the hysteria died down and the story moved to the back pages. A few months later, I remember reading a news item which said that the monkey-man was partly a figment of imagination of people with self inflicted injuries and was partly a rumour that spread like wild fire, encapsulating several fabrications and concoctions. The only strange thing about that news item was that it did not cover a space more than 2-by-4 inches and was safely ensconced in the deepest recesses of the newsprint, away from public scrutiny. That was the first day that I noticed the biased role of media in our lives.

Since then I have been constantly aware of and acutely pained by the partisan attitude adopted by most of the print media as well as its electronic counterpart. What we see these days is mostly infotainment – fodder for the parasites looking for “spicy stuff”, something which can give them goose bumps – the extent of its veracity notwithstanding. This is something we saw again when swine flu broke out a few months ago in parts of the country. The media had found its new bestseller. The reports on how swine flu was the “new epidemic” inundated the front pages of the (regrettably) leading newspapers of the country. The up side is that it created a certain amount of awareness among the citizens about the flu. But that was not the ulterior motive of the media. It was sales. And moreover, most of the knowledge regarding the flu that was spread through the newspapers was often misleading, mostly incorrect. The people of the country did what Indians do amidst such hysteria – they panicked. Swine flu was touted as the next big thing – something which could wipe out humanity within the next few years. It turned out to be a magniloquent statement, which was correctly punctured in the ensuing weeks. The hullabaloo turned out to be an empty vessel which made more noise than it was supposed to.

Today, the news of the swine flu, just like the monkey-man uproar, has seemingly left the salubrious environs of the front pages and has acquiesced to blend with the nonentity of the middle pages. It does not come as a surprise to me. But what confounds me to this day is the fact that the newspapers and the news channels that place values over market-share, principles over TRP ratings, have much lower sales than the ones that honestly believe that infotainment is the ultimate tool to fool the gullible customer. I sincerely hope that the Indian public strongly stands behind such paragons of uprightness and supports such morally empowered media houses with something more than mere acknowledgment.

9 Years And Counting..

Who does not like to support causes? We all do. In fact, it is one thing which makes us all feel good. In fact, when we support a cause, we feel as if we have turned into a better human being. Today, I had a similar feeling when I read about someone, and strongly supported that person. I read about Irom Sharmila, the courage she showed to put her own life on the back burner to support a ‘cause’ – the repeal of the macabre Armed Forces Special Powers Act (AFSPA) that has been in effect in Manipur and other north-eastern states since 1980.

What do we normally do when we feel strongly for a cause? We think about it for a while. Or we may go a step further by googling it to find out more about it. Or if we really want to change things, we discuss the matter with a friend who is most likely to understand and relate to what we have to say about the cause. An affirmative nod by him, with a hint of pride, is enough to slake our ego. It satisfies us, more often than not. And that is that. This is the upper limit to which we usually go. It is only the very few of us who actually do something about it. What Irom Sharmila has been through is inimitable and epitomizes the paragon of super-human strength - both physical and mental. And what’s her request? Please repeal the Armed Forces Special Powers Act (AFSPA). This controversial Act allows the armed forces to use force, arrest or shoot anyone on mere suspicion, with blatant impunity. Irom started out on her quest for justice on November 2, 2000. The previous day, an insurgent outfit had bombed an Assam Rifles column. The armed personnel shot down 10 innocent civilians at a bus-stand in Malom on the pretext of retaliation. That was the fateful day when she decided to step on and support a ‘cause’ – in her special way. It has been more than 9 long years and not a morsel of food or a drop of water has entered her body through her mouth. She is being forcibly fed with a drip thrust down her nose by the Indian State, which cannot let her die too.

I read the article about her in the magazine Tehelka and felt compelled to do my bit. I salute the unblemished bravery Irom has shown in the face of adversity meted out by the very state for whose growth she is waging this unsung war.

Flip Side of Youngistan

I recently came across a heartening statistic which said that by 2020, the average age of an Indian will be 28 years, that of a Chinese will be 39 years and that of a Japanese citizen will be 47 years. To further corroborate the figures, with an additional workforce of 47 million by 2020, we will be much better placed than China who would precariously lose a massive 10 million workers in the next 15 years. In such a scenario, the Indian ‘Tiger’ will presciently overpower the Chinese ‘Dragon’. I certainly agree that Indians are ambitious by nature and have an innate desire to climb high on the ladder of accomplishment and success. It clearly separates them from their daunting neighbour who wants to project its clean cut image as a major emerging power – the fact, that it compromises the ideals of transparency and truth in the process, notwithstanding. Indian ‘youth’ is certainly touted as the next big thing with punch lines like “Ye Hai Youngistan Meri Jaan” and “Jaago Re” doing the rounds of the TV and radio frequencies. But there is a sad aspect to it, a sidelined one which few people have noticed or rather would like to notice.

I shall begin by throwing some light on my own case. I would not say that I belong to a wealthy family but I consider myself highly fortunate to be born into a well-off family. Not that it was always like this. Like most other middle class families of the 80s, my dad and mom have toiled hard, skimped on all kinds of things and saved diligently to pay for my sister’s and my own education. It wasn’t an easy road to travel. But they made it through and today I can say that I can pursue my own interests without having to really worry about feeding my family – they have enough to live a comfortable life. But there are others who are not so fortunate. I have some friends who know where their interests lie, but baulk at the idea of pursuing them because the chances of being successful at them are not as high compared to what they will be if they follow the highly treaded path of a conventional 9 to 6 job. I know their heart does not lie in following the crowd. But when I recently asked a friend to fill up a form for MBA in an institute of his field of interest, his reply knocked me off my feet. He said that he would not fill up the particular form because the job henceforth would not pay him enough. He summed it up by saying that after all he has to give something back to his parents some time. I know that friend would never place financial gains over satisfaction derived from work. But he is not doing something he wants to do, and certainly can do, but is giving it all up for his parents. Well, so much for the commonly held belief, made palpable by movies like Baghban, that today’s generation is not much bothered about looking after their parents. I personally think that this belief is totally unfounded and spurious, to say the least. There may always be the vile and the depraved who do not care a fig as to who will look after their parents, but I have come across many, who do not hold anything above the sense of gratitude and indebtedness they feel towards their folks who have raised them up and put them on their feet. It is pure bliss to meet people who have a burning desire to pursue what they really want to do – and as Ayn Rand said, it is the most difficult thing in the world to do just that – but my heart pains to see how some monetary stability is preventing them from treading the path of satisfaction and happiness. This is one of the sad aspects of life that I wistfully think about.

Faults and Purgation

The sere dryness has forsaken the air long ago. All that is left behind is the sad gloom of the wetness and the circumambient air, dank and sombre. In a matter of an hour, the weather has turned ominous and the clouds look like a floor left unclean for days, with patches of dark and light grey. It is about to rain.

I stroll down the misty boulevard with my hands deep down in the pockets of my overcoat, hidden away from the cold breeze, which feels like needles on the naked skin. Something tells me to go back home. But this thing on my mind - it has been troubling me since the last few hours. I feel compelled to think it through. Why is it that we human beings pretend to be someone we are not, a lot of times? I have seen some of the people closest to me fall prey to this extreme form of depravity. What is it that the reasoning mind tells the senses so that we assume a form which we actually are not? Why are we so ashamed of our past, of the things that we have done, when we know that they were wrong and we would never do them again? We would rather hide our true face from the world and live a spurious life, rather than espouse the deserved purgation - accept who we are and learn to respect and love ourselves. I have felt it myself - whenever I have to accept a fault in my character, its acknowledgement does not come easily - I have to work hard towards its acceptance, the relief and beatification experienced henceforth notwithstanding. This confirms atleast one thing - that human beings "want" to be perfect, albeit they would rather look towards the other side and pretend as if nothing happened, than have the gumption to face the introspection. Moral introspection does not come easily and people who are bestowed with its prowess go on to become leaders.

I fasten the topmost and the only button that was left open of the overcoat. A gentle drizzle has started and I can feel the tiny droplets of water touching my face, staying there for a while, and then quickly trickling down through the contours of my face that is a bit twisted around the forehead - it twists that way whenever I am trying to think hard. Yes, I think, this would explain why every great leader I have known is bestowed with a moral integrity which is inherent and undisguised at the same time. But it still did not explain that if it is all too germane and obvious, why are not the regular folks able to perceive this with as much clarity? Where does their thought corrupt? May be the conscience is killed and silenced so that the pangs of guilt and penitance do not haunt the mind. Is it possible to fall to such extreme baseness to cover-up for a few mistakes that we, the fallible human being, have made in the past?

The patter of the raindrops, now falling thick and fast, bring me out of my reverie. I make a run for my place. The drench eclipsed the penance, which could wait for another time, in a matter of seconds.