Skip to main content

“Prostitution was better…” Cry of the Indian Roads


It is a situation in all the smaller parts of India where we still do not have proper transportation facilities. Governments change every now and then, but what remains same is the roads. For a moment, someone comes in to better the society, and he gets better off, for, the change lies in ourselves and we hate to change. On a larger scale, all of us tend to blame the government for not repairing the roads and being dumb on taking rightful measures for improvement, but if we see it from an emphatic point of view, it is all our fault. It is us, who have the urge, to rule the roads! In the quest to be the kings & queens of the highway, we deviate direly from our way! (Without showing indicators)

If at all the roads were blessed to speak, they’d have a ballad to say to God: “Dear God! SOS! I am dying and my death is not even so mournful. People who cruise on me don’t care at all about me. Why did you bring me on this earth? I have no value at all and people literally spit on me each & every time they find me clean. What’s wrong with these ‘bunch of crazies’? Why do they act as if they own me? I am made by them, for them, but none of them are for me. I feel proud when someone is driving smoothly and do not disturb the uniformity in commutation, but there are some lunatics who think that I am “The Earth”. It is you, God! I am just Man-made. Now, because of the same, I see, Man-holes on me! I feel terrible than a prostitute! Please save me God! I am tired of this life. Every year I am decorated like a bride when the statesmen arrive to a village. Later when they are gone, I am being raped and killed all over again. Keep me away from the trucks and lorries God! They are the ones who defame my figure. Give the roadsters some wisdom and ask them to be kind on the path which they travel. It is good for them that they aim at the sky, but never let them forget where they’ve stood and played when they were young! I am not afraid of death God! I am just afraid of a life that’s worse than death. Let the statesmen complain about the rains and unstable topography, I know how I have to be and it doesn’t matter anymore, how people look at me. I would be smooth for those who love to be gentle and respectful, I would be muddy for those who love “The Earth” more than anyone on this earth, I would be a pothole for sure, to those who are not keeping an eye on the grounds and definitely; I would like to be a road to those who really like to be focused on their path. Please accept my request God! Save me from this hell”

What an impact it would make, if roads had that bestowal to spit on the faces of those who spit on it; to pee on the people who didn’t use a public lavatory in front of them; to dig those heads and hands, that didn’t have any driving sense and most of all, if it had the power to vanish itself from the earth if people misused it!

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Waiting for a miracle

The mirage isn’t real, the moon isn’t near, the hope, probably feeble, and life, certainly terse. A verse, has to be written to tell a story. Because this fairy tale, is getting gory. You wished for a smile, and walked through the isle, you wished for the reveries to come true. A fine friend, you expected. A flawed foe, and a marred knot, you got. While I hopefully craved for the dawn, you eclipsed into despair with a resentful scorn. Emotions began to take turns on the weighing scale. My pains versus yours, versus our trust getting frail. Giving up may not be your forte, and winning may not be mine. Deprived and devoid of love, we live together, waiting for tides to change, waiting for a sign from Above, waiting for the impossible, waiting for a miracle.

Where’s the Middle Ground?

If you are a middle-class man and married recently, there must be an incessant turmoil going on in your mind. You must be thinking, “why me?” There were times when nobody cared what you did, or said. But now, after you are married, everyone questions your decisions and actions (even inactions). You are blamed for posing a “changed” (read,  spoilt ) behaviour and it is basically not you – it's because of YOUR WIFE, who has drastically changed you as per her convenience and necessities, just because you are like clay in your thirties. Anybody can manipulate you and make you their slave, right? That’s the intention of every marriage – to enslave all of “Man” kind. The mother-sister combo tries that for a particular period with all their love. To some extent they succeed without any resistance from you. Because, you too love them back equally for everything they did to you, right from your birth till your marriage. Now that you have become their most prized possession, it is nearl...

What are you?