The Page 3 of a decent newspaper (the regular paper, not the City Page 3) is a fair indication of the issues that the city is grappling in.
In Bangalore, the papers talk about the crumbling infrastructure and the ineffective goverance, as the city sit precariously on the edge of an abyss, very similar to the deep holes that dominate the city's non-existent roads. It is sad to see such a beautiful city run to seed on account of no governance and high corruption. No wonder wikipedia has this to say on the city - However, as a large and growing metropolis in the developing world, Bangalore continues to struggle with problems such as air pollution, traffic congestion, and crime.
In Delhi, blessed with sufficient funds and undoubtedly the best roads in the country, the papers continue to report the latest rape and suicide cases, day on day.....in a strange twist of justice, no woman - rich or poor, child or old - feels safe in a city where rapes occur, repeatedly, in broad daylight in some of the most crowded areas of town. Even as young kids getting 86% in their Boards commit suicide coz the cut-offs for a decent course in a respectable college are at least 90%.
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
As Time Goes By
Distance– both in terms of time and space – sometimes gives you a perspective that is otherwise missing. I realized this when I headed back home after nearly 7 months
Waiting for my luggage at the Domestic Airport, I see guys with military and punk cuts dressed in bright clothes and thick gold chains, yapping away loudly on the cell phones while furtively looking around to check out the babes (and see who was checking them out). Welcome to Delhi. As I looked roof-wards in amusement, I noticed for the first time that the high windows above the conveyor belt were set in stained glass – a cheap variety, but stained glass nonetheless. Surprise, surprise – and this is just the beginning.
I got my first shock as I happily trooped towards the familiar spot where my family usually waits for me at the airport. My parents, both of them, looked completely shriveled up! While Mom has been unwell for some time and has been telling me that she has shed mass, I was completely taken aback to see my always-ruddy-and-healthy dad looking decidedly weak. With a tinge of sadness, I realized that whoever remarked that people shrink as they grow old was possibly right – my parents were growing old. A fact that my father laughingly admitted to in the car when I pointed out that he seemed to have grown weak.
Surprisingly, my Mom did not comment this time on how I’d grown fat – in fact she even conceded that I seemed to have lost a few pounds! Amen.
Two days later, when I went to my mom’s school to accompany her for a shopping trip, I got my second shock. I bumped into the guy who had taken me through the paces when I first began driving. A tall, handsome man bubbling with youthful exuberance, he had just the right dash of brashness that is so exciting to someone who has just gotten behind the steering wheel. No wonder I took to heart his exhortations of driving without fear, much to my Dad’s chagrin (it was his car at the receiving end) - 'kya hoga, gaadi thook hi jayegi na..gadi chaloge to thooke gee hi. Par Daro mat'
But now, I gazed upon a man whose hair had more silver than black, the once proud shoulders had a slight stoop and there was a definite corpulence around the waist. As I looked in incredulity at him – it’s been only a few years since I learnt how to drive – I suddenly realized that just as people around me were aging, so was I.
Sometimes you realize you are growing old only when you perceive the ‘oldness’ in other people, especially those associated with your youth.
Waiting for my luggage at the Domestic Airport, I see guys with military and punk cuts dressed in bright clothes and thick gold chains, yapping away loudly on the cell phones while furtively looking around to check out the babes (and see who was checking them out). Welcome to Delhi. As I looked roof-wards in amusement, I noticed for the first time that the high windows above the conveyor belt were set in stained glass – a cheap variety, but stained glass nonetheless. Surprise, surprise – and this is just the beginning.
I got my first shock as I happily trooped towards the familiar spot where my family usually waits for me at the airport. My parents, both of them, looked completely shriveled up! While Mom has been unwell for some time and has been telling me that she has shed mass, I was completely taken aback to see my always-ruddy-and-healthy dad looking decidedly weak. With a tinge of sadness, I realized that whoever remarked that people shrink as they grow old was possibly right – my parents were growing old. A fact that my father laughingly admitted to in the car when I pointed out that he seemed to have grown weak.
Surprisingly, my Mom did not comment this time on how I’d grown fat – in fact she even conceded that I seemed to have lost a few pounds! Amen.
Two days later, when I went to my mom’s school to accompany her for a shopping trip, I got my second shock. I bumped into the guy who had taken me through the paces when I first began driving. A tall, handsome man bubbling with youthful exuberance, he had just the right dash of brashness that is so exciting to someone who has just gotten behind the steering wheel. No wonder I took to heart his exhortations of driving without fear, much to my Dad’s chagrin (it was his car at the receiving end) - 'kya hoga, gaadi thook hi jayegi na..gadi chaloge to thooke gee hi. Par Daro mat'
But now, I gazed upon a man whose hair had more silver than black, the once proud shoulders had a slight stoop and there was a definite corpulence around the waist. As I looked in incredulity at him – it’s been only a few years since I learnt how to drive – I suddenly realized that just as people around me were aging, so was I.
Sometimes you realize you are growing old only when you perceive the ‘oldness’ in other people, especially those associated with your youth.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)