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A Haunting Account Of The World We Live In 

I have not seen the glass as half-empty since I was born you know, actually I was always taught to do the opposite. Tried and tried and tried for a long time.

Tried to see the deep empathy of the doctors to lessen our suffering against five minutes of their valuable time, in addition to, well, the deep holes in our light wallets and again in addition to the innumerable depression or anxiety disorders that got added to our list to increase the number of holes in our so-called leather purses till there was no need as such to keep a wallet.

Confusing much? Very much actually.

But that is how we are supposed to live right? Give all that we earn to services or brands that have the power to be ahead of us in skills, quality or just their badass ‘BRAND NAME’. And in the end, we all want to be one of them. That is why we are studying, freelancing, earning, or whatever the fuck we are doing in our lives to ultimately be one of them.

Let me tell you a short story of how none of us can escape from this paradox or the classy ‘domino effect’.

Just imagine a life with no greed, envy, show-off, brands and especially money. What would you do now? How will you live? How will your day begin if you don’t have a Colgate or Pepsodent toothpaste to rinse your mouth with and a Nescafe or a specially ordered Starbucks Cappucino to digest the previous night’s Pasta Bolognese teamed up with the sparkling Chateau Margaux.

What would you do on a Sunday? Listen to music? On what? You need something to play it on right?

Go to the mall? But in this story there is no money, no brands, no showrooms. So what would these malls have inside of them? I am as much stuck as you about how the hell will anyone pass even a mili-second of their day without all these things which are such an intrinsic part of not just my life, but every Tin Tin’s, Superman’s or Tenali Raman’s life.

I cannot see any door through which I can escape from the constant talk about the expensive grocery shopping, the constant doctor hopping along with the dreams of the Chanel perfume one needs to buy, not to miss the revamping of one’s closet to match every Richie Rich stranger one’s eyes fall upon, constantly.

The list is gigantically endless, deeper than the well filled with General Dyer’s victims of the Jallianwala Bagh Tragedy.

The victims were killed by that asshole with a huge number of rifles that did not stop for an excruciatingly long time. I can still hear the loud screams of the innocent people as those bullets crushed out their lives, I can still hear the sounds of those thunderous rifles.

There is just one major difference.

They don’t look like rifles anymore.

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