Hello. I am a common man, an Aam Aadmi, one of the many coolly-termed ‘Mango Peoples’, a face waving around in a sea of faces, a self-centered guy, with nothing else to do but dream. And this is my story, where I rant over how India should be like the other developed countries, in every domain ranging from the coming governmental policies, upcoming technologies, better thought schools, better education systems, more sophisticated security and one or two points that I can’t recall at the moment, but I’m pretty sure I’ll ramble of them too. Also, I’ll add how the common men, the people like me, all dream of the same but will never go out of their way actually trying to do these. So here I go.
These dreams I dream are in no way new. I’ve wrapped inside myself generations of thoughts, beliefs, superstitions, ideals and opinions which I inherited from others, and I’m carrying them around everywhere I go. Though this wrapping has made me the person I am today, I also feel somehow it has chained me to the ghost of past, resisting my every movement, resisting my every change.
The reason why I just dream and don’t do anything is, I’m scared. A lot. Scared that doing these may make me go empty-stomach for days at stretch, taking away the roof above me, and ripping the clothes off my body. I do anything and everything that can satisfy my ever-increasing needs. See that’s what making me NOT leave the forest of ‘Routine’, in both the meaning and the metaphorical sense.
I may not really like what I do, but I don’t have the liberty to hate it. I get happy in the little things of life, celebrate each and every occasion happily, always trying to spread smiles to as large an audience as possible. I like to play pranks on my friends, pull their legs, share funny events with my relatives and play with the children. I get hurt too, then I cry, then I yearn for a warm hug, some friendly advice, a pat on the back, ready to sprout up my next smile. But it seriously troubles me when someone else tries to control my life; when the prices of petrol go up; when people in some faraway city have been attacked by terrorists, and all I can do is helplessly watch their plight on National TV; when I’m scared to go against superstitions even though I understand they don’t make any sense; when I think of ourselves being ruled by incapable idiots, no better than I am; when I sit watching Satyameva Jayate,going through all the rotten mangoes in our system exposed; when I hate shelling out extra bucks for my fuel from the same meagre income I manage to earn; when I can’t draw political cartoons or express my opinions for the fear of spending a night in jail; when I just type a few sentences to show my frustration of being so bloody human, and that too so bloody common!
Maybe I’ve been labelled a common man for a reason. Maybe! Our species is just so predictable. A few claps can be clapped over victories of common men in movies like Rang De Basanti or A Wednesday, but the next day shall exactly be the same, with the same indifference towards ourselves. ‘Cos, you know, fear is difficult to drive out.
So here we end with the 2 minute recipe to pickle a common man: Common man+ Food+ Shelter+ Clothing+ Responsibilities+ Fear+ Money+ Corruption+ uncommon dreams. Add pinch of salt to taste. Lime juice optional.