Politics... organizational politics, dirty politics; where cheap, slimy, worthless slithering reptiles crawl; understanding well that they will be unfit to exist anywhere else. Given space, most work hard on trying to figure out how not to work instead of finding ways to work; if only they would invest their time to boost their productivity...
Lesser said, it is not less often that I wonder how interesting life would be if it were a little slower like in the good old days of my great granddad who perhaps toiled in the fields and the sweat at the end of the day would do to show the work rather than some silly result from an administered performance appraisal; and when HR management was seen by the way people would drop in the next day at the door for work even without having to sign a lumpy contract; and the care shown by the grandma who would make the snacks and tea for their break-time munch was seen as good enough to retain the proletariat rather than a carrot at the end of the stick the management holds out to the ever-greedy, ever-needy generation today that tries to grab it till the end of their career-precisely the way it was intended to be.
Today, I look at the speed at which the world runs for my children and am unsurprizingly amazed. A father who goes to work early and too busy focusing on what to do when he gets there that the morning drifts off just as early as it started; by late evening he gets back and with saddles of work removed after running around like a panting labour-horse, hardly finds the strength or the energy to hug his kids; The mother who gets to know all about the dirtier side of the world through the little window of the apartment and the newspaper that is thrown in through it and who quite understandably protects the children like a jailer protects his territory; The children who perhaps made no mistake to be born in this God-forsaken, devil-breeding, "I-Hate-This" place that makes me wonder... "Why the f*$k am I here?!" in the first place.
Just as a friend to many, is a friend to none, a place that belongs to everybody belongs to none. This mixed feeling of purposelessness to exist in a particular place is often shadowed by our unjustified reason to blame it on the future of the kids which we seldom realize is destroyed rather than created. It is tempting to say, "Home sweet home is the answer"... yet again, too far and hardly reached, with identities changed and hardly recognized, home too is redefined as the place where one finds love is... It is our greed, greed for power, status, recognition, and to run-away and start fresh as a stranger in a distant land, to be free and feel liberated that makes us lose more than we could possibly gain and to end up earning to go back from where we started even if it has to begin right from the scratch. And at times, a pragmatic reminder of reality and a shaken yet not stirred dash of utopia with a sprinkle of idealism is all the concoction one needs to stay dazed in a busy, pointless world; nothing matters any more and life is just a drag to bear till the end of the grave...
