We all are free birds, they claim. Free to think, act and
react. But, I am not entirely sure if it makes any sense to those stranded on
land, practically wingless. Evidently, we- chickens and ostriches of the bird
family- are incapable of making our own choices because of the stubborn mind
bossing around and mischievous heart goofing around. We can’t stand by our
opinion as we are afraid that, eventually, it’s going to hurt someone’s petty feelings-
communal, love, religious; you name it and it’s there, ready to get hurt for no
reason. Apparently, we don’t even have the fundamental right to dislike
anything or anyone.’ It’s not very polite’, the hypocrites say. ‘Just smile. Absorb
your disgust. Be gentle. Act like you give a damn.’
Metro guy- another
wingless bird- wondered if he can ever openly express his hatred; his hostility
towards the tiny humans- the babies and their irritating boo-boo stuff.
The metro guy always believed that there are two kinds of
people that can survive this brutal world. Those who love and adore babies, and
others who masterfully pretend that they ‘love and adore’ babies. ‘That’s an
ugly little fellow you are carrying’, said no one outloud, while pointing
towards a baby (atleast no one alive). It’s a fact that not many people will go
on record and say that they hate those little vicious screamers with
‘I-will-shit-anywhere-and-anytime-I-want-to’ attitude. It’s hard to loathe
something that every other person so blindly worships as their ‘cutie-pie’ god.
It just takes a stupid yawn, a toothless smile, meaningless
utterances (abaaa, boo boo, khi khi) and people frantically go ‘awww’. He never
understood what’s so endearing about these petite clumsy creatures. All he knew
was that they are the harbingers of deafening noise and choking smell. You can’t
even hear yourself think. Your headphones fail you. The book loses all
interest. The peace outside turns chaotic. The presence of one child in the
compartment marks the end of any possible productive work.
He hated their guts. These creatures easily get what he only
dreamed of- a comfortable seat, attention of girls, recognition by the crowd
and instant altruistic love. World may
call them adorable, but to him, they are just sadistic dwarves. He clearly
recalled an incident when he was hunting for a metro seat. He marked a middle seat
in the row, which he guessed was going to get vacant at Rajiv Chowk. He stood
there vigilant, hoping for his prophecy to come true. It was a regular family- a
timid father, a masculine mother and an infant disguised as ‘sweet’. Soon, the child
showed his true colours and began crying for no reason. Parents were clueless. They shook him, swung him, sang to him but all
in vain. Luckily, the mother advised to take the baby outside for some fresh air.
Metro guy’s eye sparkled. He anchored his foot in front of their seats,
indicating his contendership to those standing nearby. The father obeyed and slowly rose from his seat
with baby in his arms. Metro guy added another score in his ‘guess book’. The
father was halfway there, almost away from the seat but suddenly that half-witted
child stopped crying, maybe for the same unknown reason he started it. The father
happily sat back and that little devil turned his face and gave me an evil
grin.
‘He did it on purpose’, metro guy shockingly mumbled to himself.
