"There wouldn't be no philosophy on an empty stomach", I remember my flat mate reading this line aloud to me once. What I don't remember the book from which my flat mate was reading. Was it Marx? I am not sure. But then, my tryst with Marx says otherwise. Whoever be the great mind who coined the phrase, have to admit, it holds good completely. I can't make a statement for the entire human race, but sure can say about myself.
The rain beat tormentingly on the big umbrella I was holding, I was getting wet, but not all that much, a constant heavenly spray, which wasn't enough to make a person soaking. The air-conditioned building awaits me and a cup of coffee from the pantry, my discomfort was definitely short lived and I strode wondering more about the relation of philosophy and economics.
She was wearing a polythene, yellow colored rain coat and standing at the gate, checking identity cards. There was no umbrella, but a rain coat with a hood, making her look like a saint with a halo, from a catholic church. A female saint, standing at the gate, in the rain, checking the identity cards of all those who walked past her into the warmth of the building, people like me. Drops rolled down the plastic hood, onto her face and traced a trail down someplace into her bosom, forming a puddle of coldness, very near to her heart. She was wet and cold, but couldn't complain nor think about warmth, there were hours to go before she could have it. There was no seeker in her, there were no pondering questions about life in her, rather an exclamation about the bitch, life has turned to be for her, struggling hard to make a living.
I cant help but repeat it after my realization that, it is so very true, no philosopher existed on an empty stomach. The pangs of hunger and man's quest for greater meanings in life are inversely proportional. The less the hunger and more the comfort, more man's desire to seek answers.