Thursday, August 11, 2011

the MARCH of a proletarian

From the time he cared to remember, his desires had always been hidden, because there were no ways of attaining them at the moment he desired. What fun is in the fulfillment of a desire, when the desire itself cease to exist or had been forgotten?

Growing up, things weren't favorable in the village he lived. Water, rain, food, good clothes, almost everything was scarce and not to mention a english uschool, as he used to pronounce it back then. Watching the kids from the far away city on a picnic converse gayly in a language, he couldn't follow, he knew the limitations he faced growing up. But, then the english uschool became true and he knew, this was his march, the march of a proletarian, to leave of the poverty struck, dusty-dirty village and make true the gayness he found on the faces of the kids from the city. He planned his march, though not blessed with the acutest brain around, he fared good on the score-card, not near the top, but sure good enough to further his years and get to the next level, in the hierarchic educational system Macaulay introduced.

The moment he set his eyes on the white maruti, driving which the head-master's son came from the city, another thing was added to his 'to own' list. He didn't sit in vain, but gathered all his wits and went ahead and asked the head-master's son, how to get in possession of a maruti and he was given the advice, to keep studying, even if it didn't make sense or even if he didn't understand half the thing nor did it matter to him. Be a post graduate, get a job in some city and that is the way to maruti.

Years went by, our protagonist had always been on the march, towards his dreams. The post graduation he sure did, that too on the smartest selling cake in the market - "business administration" from a discreet, hidden around the corner B school. And thankfully as promised at the time of interview, by the time he completed the two years learning how to administer a business, the B school management was successful in convincing a bunch of companies to recruit from their freshly baked cakes. The stars shined on him bright for a week and the special prayers in the village temple worked finally. He got selected for a job in a big company in the city and he remembered his old head master's son and the line "get to a job in city after post graduation..that is the way to maruti." The old maruti 800, which was an inspiration behind his march till now was now not being sold to city inhabitants, but sure that car didn't fancy him as much as it had first kindled his heart. He thought to himself, "a maruti swift diesel would be a good choice", and the '800' got replaced by 'swift', but the tag 'maruti' left uchanged.

He embraced the job, as if it was his long lost twin. This was the march to reach the gayness on the faces of those kids from school, whom he had seen as a child. Also, this march was to own a white maruti and drive to his village, like the head-master's son. All these desires defined him and nobody could have been at fault, if they felt he was licking instead of kissing his bosse's ass. Drawing the first month's salary he knew the awfully long distance still left to the maruti, he was disappointed, but gathered all his nerve and went on a spree not eating and saving money and stabbing everyone whom he felt might pose a threat to his march, at the back. An year went by, the money saved still didn't look good for the maruti. He sighed because he knew it would be many more years before he could actually go home driving his own maruti.

The green bills passing through his hand, while counting for the 12th time, the few ten thousands he had managed to save, not eating, not ever picking the tab and fooling a firang with his business idea and relieving him of some valuable foreign exchange; he understood, what his school head master's son had really intended. It was not to save the green bills earned from his sweat and try own a maruti, because that would be a long route in vain. The shortest and the cheapest route is to get married and own the maruti along with the village landlord's daughter.

He was the only post graduate in business administration in the village he hailed from and all these years of learning the language the Britishers and Americans speak and being able to stammer on it with a heavy accented tone, he felt confident about the alliance. The urge to make true the desire ensured he caught the next train home and his parents happiness knew no bounds when he suggested about the alliance to the landlords daughter. They knew, it would mean an elevation of social status, redemption from poverty and debt and the icing on the cherry, the maruti car as dowry for their beloved post graduate, employed in a city son. Things went ahead fast, the proposal was made and the landlord agreed. The price negotiations over, he boarded the next evening train. The march of a proletarian to make true his desires was coming to an end.

((NB: I feel disgusted, watching some acquaintances doing this city employment, as a part of the proletarian's strategical march to a car and riches. If ever they invite me over and let me in on the details of the exchange, I promise to spoil it at least momentary. You marry because you choose to marry and share your life with someone. You marry, not because you choose to own a car through the shortest route nor because you choose to share the girl's dad's wealth.))


  1. This comment has been removed by the author.

  2. Interesting!! An awesome post like all your previous posts.

  3. Reminds me of the quote,"some people know the cost of everything but value of nothing".

    And the protagonist you have and his like are of that kind. So in the Indian milieu the tag of a PG as you mentioned is a pivot for the bargain.

    The reason of this psyche is there are more to life than that is not taught at business schools.

    Oshu the topic was described quite well by you.

  4. Da patti! Enthada marutikyoru koravu? Eh? Ithenne uddeshichanu, enne thanne uddeshichanu, enne maathram uddeshichanu.

  5. well written ousu and quite an interesting read bordering on amusement, since it is the reality, maruti car just being the symbol of greater evil being the riches. reasons enough for people to forget all the values in the world.


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