The Essence of Development

Cranes, claws and destruction of tin foil houses. Development had finally come to their door step. Insufficient jobs in their own hometowns had set them on a path of migration to Mumbai. The land of dreamers, the land of milk and honey for an underdeveloped rural country. Over 70% of the population is rural , yet, the job opportunities were sparse.

The claw crushed down on the tin foil homes and bit into the sand. A father, a mother, children and an old man cringed as they watched the sight. Perhaps this was their home. The claw retracted, pulling with it mud, wrecked metal and a destroyed home. The claw rose up again and came down. It crushed another tinfoil home into bits. The claw retracted dragging with it mud and twisted metal.

Real estate prices sky-rocket in Mumbai, just like its sky-rocketing skyline. A small community of over 20 slums had claimed this piece of land as their own; their own little home in the vast, uncaring sprawl of Mumbai. The alternative was sleeping on the streets. Their small community cautiously grew. They had a roof over their head in this sprawling city. Now, one by one, each tinfoil home was being cleared away. Development had come to their door step.

On the first day, all their homes were first cleared.

Then second day, the digging started. The was debris cleared and the claw dug deep into the ground and began moving earth. The families had gone away to earn their daily wages. Development had come to their doorstep. They were not happy, but they could do nothing to stop it. The claws dug large holes in the ground for foundation.

Then, the large pipes were brought. The pipes would help improve the city’s ailing sewer system for the residential and business homes in the region. The pipes were buried in the ground where their homes once were.

Development had come to their doorstep, but it was not for the people who lived there. Their homes, their community were destroyed.

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Climbing Mounds

As we grow older, the more used to, the more comfortable we get with the structure, habit, schedule and the ultimate 9-5 job of life. Throw in something new for a child and they absolutely love it.  

The day is as usual for Ali. School in the morning and extra classes that run through afternoon because the exams were close. Of course, Ali didn’t feel he needed extra classes after school, but the teacher said, “We have to complete the course and only then you can give the exams.”

‘Bah,  I don’t need this nonsense’,  Ali wanted to cry out, but he held his mouth shut and listened to the boring voice of the teacher. She kept talking and talking and talking and Ali’s eyes drifted to the window, then the door, then the clock, then back to his boring teacher who still spoke in a boring voice.

All things must come to an end and that included the class. The class bell rang and Ali charged out.

He said good-bye to his friends and rushed home. That’s when life threw a surprise at him, a disaster if you will.

Ali’s home is not like the high towering buildings all around him. His home is a small house with one room. His home is not the only one on the road. There was a dozen of them lined up on the narrow road. The initial part of the road was made of red bricks, but faded into one made of tar. To Ali it didn’t matter if the road was made of bricks or tar. It was bumpy, uneven and potholed.

However, today, when Ali returned home the road was gone. It was not there. The red bricks were gone, the black tar was gone. He did not tarry and instead rushed home. He quickly undressed from his school clothes and put on something more comfortable.

“Oye! Ali”, his friend’s called him out and so he stepped out from his house. The road was gone. All  that remained was loose sand and mud. And all throughout the road lay mounds. Mounds of mud, mounds of sand, mounds of cement. “Come on!” Ali’s friend cried and sprinted forward with a large grin up the mound. Ali charged forward, determined to race his friend. Up and up his feet took him, and down and down he came. Every step in the mud threatened to make his feet vanished, but he pulled it out again. They ran up and down, up and down, up and down, the mounds on their street. Just enjoying something new, something different.

Ali’s lungs huffed and puffed pulling in oxygen and he and his friend sat down on top of the bound. Today was a good day, today was a fun day, today was different. They grinned at each other, caught up with their breath and rushed down the mound for another race.

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A Dying Bulb

No matter how much I try, the bulb still does not work. I have changed the bulb from big to small to tiny to huge, and it still does not seem to make difference. The bulb still switches off when it is not supposed to.

The switch ensures that the circuit is completely connected and even then the bulb doesn’t switch Perhaps these bulbs truly have a life of their own as my Uncle used to say. on. Maybe even electricity seem to have a life of its own. What do you think?

Oh, I guess you don’t even know which light bulb I’m talking about. It’s the bathroom light bulb. Can you see the problem here? Of course, you can’t - let me tell you.
Imagine you’re bathing, or you’re brushing your teeth or you’re taking a dump – either ways you’re doing something in the bathroom. The bathroom window is a tiny square that hardly lets in any sun rays, so you’re completely dependent on the bulb, because if it’s not there, it’s dark; pitch dark enough for you to slip and fall on a soap piece (that’s a story for another day).

So this bulb, it keeps switching off when I’m in the bathroom. One moment I’m in the bathroom doing what I‘m doing, doing what you in the bathroom. And, the next thing – I’m trying to figure is what the heck’s happening in the dark, because you know, it’s suddenly dark now and the bulb is not working.

Every single time I silently let out a curse – Goddamn bulb! Predictably, it does nothing to improve the situation on hand.

But, you can never really give up on things like this. To give up, means to accept randomly surviving in the darkness of that bathroom when the bulb’s life goes off. So I decided to try something else.

There’s a mop lying in the bathroom. I’m supposed to wipe the water on the floor after a bath so it dries off quicker. The next time the bulb dies off, I pick up that mop and jam it into the bulb. Off course, I don’t push it hard enough to crack the bulb.

And... CONTACT!

The bulb is on.

What do you think of that?

Fucking brilliance of it!

Sometimes, you just gotta try something different and something absurd and something random.

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A Call from Mom

The morning sun rained down heat and light through the window. I just wanted to wrap myself up and go to sleep. I didn’t want to face the day today. I kinda of knew what was going to happen and I wanted to avoid it. There was a hollowness in my heart, and nothing, and no one could fill that. 

The best thing I could do was get up and dive into work. So, that’s what I did. I rolled off my bed and started getting ready for work. My father was already awake. He sullen and silent as he read the paper. An early retirement meant that he had no work to go to. A quick breakfast later and I mutter a goodbye as I left home. 

I saw the sorry and pity looks that were directed towards me. Some even offered sympathy. Everything was a dream. I sat at my desk and dived into work. 

It seemed like time and work could not even last forever and I had to return home. Even though dad was there, it felt empty. 

“Your mother called today”, my father said. 

That was not possible, but I understood where my father was coming from, at least I thought I understood where he was coming from. 

I just nodded again and acknowledged my father’s statement. 

***

I returned from work again. My father still had a sullen look on his face. As days passed, his face looked more sunken too. “Your mother called”, he said. 

This again, I decided to go along. “What did she say?” 

“Nothing”. 

I nodded my head in acknowledgement.  

I would give anything to meet my mother. Those were my last thoughts before I went to sleep. 

***

“Your mother talks to me sometimes over the phone. She said that she loves you very much.”

“I know dad, you don’t have to tell me. I love mom too, no matter what.” 

He stared at me for a moment, before burying his head in a novel. 

***

It was a Sunday, so I was lazing at home. Father was asleep, afternoon nap. His phone began ringing. I looked at the screen. The impossible was happening, ‘Sharon’, my mother’s name flashed on the screen. 

Curiously, I picked up the called. 

“Mom….” I glanced around, my father was not in sight, “Mom, mom”, I spoke inside the speaker. 

I wanted to hear her voice. “I’ve not heard your voice for long, Mom”. 

The eternal silence. 

“You know I’ve been missing you too mom”. 

“Works been fine. They’ve given more responsibility than before.” 

“Yes, yes, I’ll ask them for a raise.” 

The conversation went on and on, from work to friends to life.

Finally, I put the phone down. 

My dad had woken up from his afternoon nap. “Who was that?” 

“Mom”, I answered. 

You know what the funny part was? My mother was dead. 

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A Flooded Battle

A war consists of many, many battles. There are critical battles that play a deciding factor in whether a war is won or lost. During that 1965 war between India and Pakistan, there were many battles that were fought but none like the Battle of Asal Uttar.

The 1965 war featured a battle on the border of the two countries. Immense military resource were mobilized and each country dedicated massive resources at a single point to gain a breakthrough in the defensive line of the enemy. A simple and effective strategy to winning the war.

***

Tanks rolled from the Pakistan border and crossed virtually unopposed into the Indian territory. In another 20 minutes, they would come across the first Indian town and that’s where they expected the first wave of resistance.

Amir kept his foot steadily pressed on the pedal and the Patton tank rolled forward. The Patton tank was the world’s foremost tank that proved its mettle during World War II. As of this moment, a mighty force of five tank regiments and one infantry regiment were moving through the open land towards their first objective, Asal Uttar. It gave Amir and his comrades confidence that any meager Indian military force stationed there would not have the power to stop over their 200 Patton tanks.

“Stop”, the commander standing on top of the hatch called out. “Khem Karan is in sight”. It was the village before Asal Uttar.

The scrapping of boots could be heard as the infantry soldiers on top of the tank alighted off.

Amir could hear the rumbling of the tank as they rolled towards the village. He thanked Allah that he was not part of the advance unit. They would be the first one to be shot down, through which the Indian military would reveal their position. Then all the regiments had to was rush forward and shoot at the Indian tanks and any anti-tank guns that lay hidden in the town. Their tanks won’t be able to withstand a frontal shot from the 90 mm gun of the Patton tank.

For the next 10 minutes the whole atmosphere was just silent, only the rumbles of Patton tanks could be heard. Amir sat, waiting for the wave of attack from the Indians at the advance unit ahead. His foot was already poised on top of the pedal, waiting to jam it down, charge ahead and break through the Indian defense line.

***

Two hundred Patton tanks were on their way, the information was passed on to every Indian soldier. It would be a battle like 300 warriors against thousand Persians.  

Centurion tanks, battle tested British tanks, were snuggly hidden from view, waiting for the enemy to attack. Battles were decided on numbers and strengthen and right now, the Indian side lacked both.

Against, five tank regiments, the sparse three tank regiments of India had no chance in open battle. Two of the regiments were of older and lighter tanks - the Sherman and AMX tanks. Only a Centurion tank was formidable enough to stand against them and Avinash sat in one. His eyes were pressed into the scope, waiting for the enemy to appear before him.

Khem Karan was completely abandoned and the enemy had taken it. Civilians were already evacuated to behind the defensive line of the town, Asal Uttar. And now, the only thing that stood between Asal Uttar and the enemy were three tank regiments.

All the Indian tanks were well hidden among the thick sugarcane fields. Sugarcane sticks were roped on the tank’s hull, while the tank’s tracks were hidden by another barricade of sugarcanes.

Avinash and the rest of his comrades in the tank took in the silence and the stress. Like him, they didn’t know if the strategy would work. Horseshoe, all the 135 tanks had formed a horseshoe. That’s how they were going to defeat a force superior in strength and quality. A ‘semi-circular tactic’ to surround the enemy.

Then, the enemy came, the rumbling of the Patton tanks. Sugarcanes was crushed as the Pattons streamrolled on them and then, their swift pace turned into a crawl. The Patton chugged into view with half their tracks sunk into soil, severely affecting their mobility. What the enemy did not expect was the soil to be waterlogged, making it extremely difficult for tank tracks to trudge through.  

“Wait for them”, the unit commander’s voice whispered through the radio. The 105 mm gave them an advantage over the Pattons. They struggled forward, completely unaware of the horseshoe of tanks around them.

“Now”, the whisper thundered from the radio. In unison, the Indian tanks roared out. The frontal unit of Patton tanks blew up into a blaze of fire. Confused and without having time to think in the heat of battle, the Pakistan army did what it only could. It poured more tanks forward. Their numbers were irrelevant as they got bogged down in the mud. The horseshoe trap around them ensured that each and every frontal tank was destroyed. Patton tanks that did try to reverse back found it impossible with the tracks stuck in the soil.

That is not to say, the battle was a cake walk. A tank next to Avinash exploded into metal bits and flames. The terrifying cries of dying comrades could be heard. A shell bounced off from the sloped armour. The Pakistani infantry soldiers that poured into the field were cut down by the machine guns from the Indian tanks.

At the end of the day, the Patton tanks that survived were bogged down in the flooded sugarcane field and were forced to surrender. Pakistan lost 97 of their tanks, India lost only 10.

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Unfair or just Lucky?

I put down my bag and take a seat. It’s freaking hot outside. Thankfully, the cool air from the office air conditioner is on full blast and it takes a whole minute for my body to really feel the coolness of the office. At the press of a button, my laptop is switching on.

The first thing I did was check my email, just another day at the office.

Any clients screaming at me? Did I mess up any work? Oh, what’s this?

The pointer moves on the screen and the new mail is opened.

What’s this….

“40,000”, I read. More a moment I was taken aback. So I read it again.

“40,000”.

Damn, it sounds the same.

I get up from my seat and head over the boss’s office. Everyone is already engrossed in their work.

“Did you just give me a raise?” I asked.

She quickly nodded her and went back to her phone.

It was the start of a new month, so I expect my salary slip, but not an increment.

Was that luck? Was that fair?

***

My feet are moving swiftly. I didn’t go to office. You shouldn’t go to office, if you’re sick, so I didn’t go to office. The illness is upon me.

Oh shit.

I’m sitting on the throne in the toilet.

Do. Not. Imagine. This.

Shit happens, literally.

Bad loose motions can have a terrible effect on a person and I had the bad kind.

Did I eat something? That’s can’t be, don’t remember.

Am I unlucky? Is this fair to me? I did nothing to deserve this. I drop another load.

It’s not pleasant.

I did nothing to deserve this.

***

Death hides behinds the clouds and when no one is looking, it swoops in and kills someone.

His father, brother and some other close cousins are carrying a coffin to the graveyard.

What did my friend do? The fool was stupid enough not wear a helmet while riding his motorcycle. Now he’s dead.

The coffin was lowered into the grave.

Hundreds of people ride in the city without their helmets, they try riskier things, they even come closer to death. I, we, his family, friends, we are not burying a single one 'them', we’re burying my friend, the safest rider I’ve known, except he never wore a helmet.

Fair? Unfair? Lucky? Unlucky?

Why did God allow this?

I didn’t know.

The only thing I can do is keeping moving forward. Luck, fair unfair, unlucky… who the fuck knows – just. keep. moving. forward.

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Rats on the Track

Long and tall creatures with four arms, that’s what I saw. They were standing on a high and long platform. All looking out and staring into the infinity beyond, I wouldn’t know. My world was down here.  Stone pebbles all around, stone pillars stuck in the ground and two shinny bars stretched on the stone pillar. Food, that’s what I came up for. Using my short limbs and claws, I navigated the rough, unstable pebbles, but they were loose so my claws did not get caught in them.

In the middle of this abyss lay a piece of bread.

Food!

Immediately, I scrambled on to the stone pillar where my claws scraped on top of it, then, contracting my muscles, I leaped across the bar. It was a quick scrambled as I sprinted to the piece of bread, dug my teeth in and dragged the piece back.

Once again, my muscles contracted and I jumped across. The food was savoured in my mouth. I was rushing across, taking the bread piece with me. That’s when my obstacle jumped across from the other side and blocked the way. It was another rat, slightly bigger than me. The long creatures on top were shuffling on their feet.

From infinity the rolling box will come, I need to go back in my hole!

I charged forward only to see him raise up his claws. Claws sharp enough to dig into my face and rip it off. I stopped. My peripheral vision told me those long creatures were getting agitated, coming closer to the edge of the platform. The rolling box is coming.

In my obstacles eye, I could see the desperation and hunger that I’ve seen so many times.

We’re all caught in a rat race. A never ending one just trying to eat every day. What do I do now?

The pebbles were rumbling, the rolling box was far way. It was not that I would crush a rat. Those vibrations were not meant for a rat’s body to bear.  

The rolling box came into my peripheral vision. The vibration and rumblings were getting stronger. My bones could feel it.

There was not much I could, I threw the bread piece and rushed for the hole as the rat went for the bread.

Even underneath I could feel the vibrations. How long it lasted as I huddled and protected myself.

Then, I emerged. The rat, my obstacle, was dying, cut in two by the rolling box. There was nothing to do, I picked up the bread piece and went back to the hole.

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