Thursday, January 18, 2007

The $ and the Soul

It seems casual, subtle and unintentionally poised the way people deal with business.
It attracts me for sure, and arouses my desire to resemble and be part of this game -- of elite hypocrisy--and acute materialism---the game of business.

I am back from a party,hosted by a Pakistani businessman with whom I have spent several of the last 48 hours of my life. Who has rekindled in me yet again the spirit of true business crossing barriers of all emotion. The man is typical- I dare say- of a type known to me from far before like as if I knew of him since my birth, A man of all smiles-even admist bouts of excessive alcohol and tobbacco--admist chaos of his personal life--admist filthy tantrums of money passing his kitties every hour.

It reminds me of the evening I spent in the mesmerizing enigma of Marine drive, which remains and will remain proof of the invisible hand of business , even as the garangutan building neon lights stood upright against the backdrop of the mighty Arabian ocean , quietly but certainly denoting the power of money and the flow of bloods and sweat that passed to create this grandeur

As I travel in my corolla with the airconditioner in the chassis keeping the Dhaka sun at bay, I stop for a moment from to feel the fleeting time, and I feel it fleeting through my nerves as if reminding me of my inaction.

Sometimes I wonder to whom I belong?Do I belong to my parents who have instilled in me highest degree of repect for values and family? Do I belong to my brother for having taught me the joy of being simple? Do I belong to you who taught me what it is to miss someone? who taught me the way to feel belonged?

Or do I belong to this fleeting moments of grandeur? The power that these moments bring? Do I belong to the pulse I feel in flowing materialism, the way it makes and breaks life? Do i belong to being a part of business?

The answer I dont know,and I am sure I remain unaware. In addition I fear that the answer will continue to evade me for the rest of my life as it has evaded this far.
As the car stops at a traffic signal, my door screen shows me a muslim blind beggar at the traffic light. A man naked till his waist and in eternal deprivement of light begging me for some alms. His frail body shows through his skeleton,and his bony arm held by a woman you looked younger than he, presumably his wife.

For a moment i felt afresh, for I saw the love this woman had for her husband as she waded him through the crowded streets of Dhaka, or as she dodged the police cops who shooed them away from the streets. I saw the love this man had for his wife inspite of his handicap as he bravely ran admist speeding vehicles with the hope that some sahib shall make them their meal for the day.
I dont know what that meant to me , but I am sure that it meant a lot. I know that the rich will get richer and the poor poorer , but the world will move on.


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