It was a cold rainy night, when the last truck came and picked up the garbage outside Sion station. What remained behind was- an empty carton of Bagpiper, a Dhara Oil tetrapack, a few random rotting vegetables, a discarded condom, a pile of wet newspapers, a solitary hai-pin, and a torn and tattered soft-toy that looked a bit like tweety.
Out of nowhere, the whiskey carton, breaking the silence of the night, started talking. Hey guys, where have you u come from….as far as I’m concerned, a i few hours back at one Garudkar’s house….they had good fun, and he drank so much he collapsed on the sofa only. Taking a cue, all other items of garbage, as if sprung to life…and that’s where this story’s title came from: A rotton article
The Dhara groundnut oil pack said…You know, my batchmates, who were born, packed, transferred and sold- all over India, they all claim to have a shelf life of 6 months atleast…but in this Gujju family, I only lasted for a month. Forget cholesterol, fats or anything, oil flows like water in their food..no wonder they have been listed in the WHO list also, as potentially high-risk communities- a study pertaining o food habits and health hazards in India.…zindagi bus do din ki uske yahan.
The condom, of course, stretched a bit, and as throbbed back to life ( pun intended). It said ‘ boss, apun ka kaam hai public ko bachana and masti dena…whatever little time I lived, I sure had fun…good fun…and plus I’m also doing my bit to control the menace of AIDS, Population explosion and…just my way to live a good meaningful life. Am happy this way..I had a good time… woah…lemme tell u guys ive been there, done that…
The hair-pin started crying…she said..i was just bought 2 days ago from JNPT…my god let me tell those guys, those officers are so bloddy corrupt, that nothing moves beyond the gates, unless and until bribes are paid. By the way, people, I’m from China…nowadays I don’t see any Indian hair pins. Am shocked that even the smallest of things are imported, and all I can think of is- how is the Indian small-scale sector and cottage industry going to survive this onslaught? A tomato tried to brush her aside- and the hair-pin blurted some swear word in Chinese, leaving the tomato really fuming red. Regaining her composure, she said- soy guys, but I can’t speak Marathi..only mandarin and English…O yes, how I came here? This girl just across the road got a new hair untangling shampoo, n next moment- as if she doesn’t need me…simply tossed me in the garbage…
Hearing all this, a rotten cabbage, removed a few layers from his face and then, said, gosh, I travelled all the way from Sangli to Bombay…but there are no cold chain facilities in India. Just imagine I was freshly born just 2 days back…and see me now! Even before I reached the vegetable market, I was stinking and rotting within.
And I’m not alone facing this curse. Wheat from Punjab, every year they suffer the same ignominy. Poor things, millions of them lie in the open, braving sun and rain, and finally rot to death. See see see, can you see that beggar scavenging the roadside hotel bin for food? I wish, we had good storage and transport facilities- nobody would ever go hungry in India that way.
The Newspaper, was the loudest. Naturally, because it was a tabloid and it loved to scream, shout and sensationalise everything- including bomb blasts and accidents. It said- Bhai-lok, did you even know why that dumper left so fast, and why it goes so fast on the road- even at the cost of crushing innocent lives now and then? It’s all a big scam perpetrated by these vehicle contractors and the BMC. More the rounds it makes, higher the scam money and inflated bills…and by the way, see open me and read my 3rd page. There’s a fresh scoop on how Anti-Corruption department’s Officer was caught red handed taking a bribe. And also, on page 16, a story on how a woman was murdered last night at Antop Hill just because her boyfriend suspected her having an affair with her husband…..huh…nobody was interested…except one broken specs, without one glass…it just hopped on and went to read that part of the story.
Meanwhile, a dog came, sniffed all around- picked up one soundless bread that was all green with fungus, and went off happily to feed its hungry puppies which were crying under some pipe…she was pretty happy…and was feeling happy that her kids wont go hungry- at least for tonite.
Next moment, a rumbling sound….and in a split second, everybody realized…that its time they will be picked up and dumped in the truck…..the whiskey box was the liveliest and somehow, he spotted what nobody else could- it was a small bundle wrapped in tissue paper…but still throbbing a bit…seems it was freshly thrown out of an auto rickshaw passing by…
The box went closer, took the help of the condom and the broken specs…..all the three of them went to that small pink looking thing…opened it and….they dint know what it was…they asked…who are you, what are you, where did you come from?
The small pink thing replied…I don’t know my name- all I know that I’m a foetus…a girl foetus.
1 comment:
this is one of the best - on female feticide
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