A call from Maruti Suzuki today, and various other such calls that I have received over the last few months prompted me to write this post. Before you roll your eyes or even raise an eyebrow, no, this isn’t one of those posts complaining about telemarketing. And no, this has nothing to do with Maruti, the new A-star or any other addition to their extensive (or so they claim) 12-model lineup either. So then, what is this about?
The call I got was for Mr. Jack, a relative whose number (thanks to my profound laziness) I have been using since the last 8 months. So, every day I am either subjected to phone calls selling me things I don’t need or reminding me to give for servicing things that I don’t own (Mr. Jack’s Maruti Esteem, for example). I’ve even had some calls inviting me to conferences and offering me jobs in SQL, SAS and other such assorted acronyms.
“So what? Just change your number! Don’t sit and whine about this also now”, you say. Yeah ok, I’ll get a new number. Duly noted. But then, what this got me thinking about is the way we live. The very second-hand nature of our existence. My existence. An existence that isn’t real, a shielded existence, almost like I’m living in a bubble, floating on a cloud. Barely able to touch what I am really affected by.
I just sit there and watch while what I’ve grown up around and what represents to me the city I’ve grown up in is destroyed, vandalized and raped. Asking,”Yaar, what’s the latest on the Taj?” The reporter shouts into my ear the latest on the issue. That’s his version. I don’t know whether it’s the truth. I don’t know whether what I’m receiving is the truth. I go about my job. And when I get back home, I just sit there. Useless, effete, a napunsak. I can’t do anything about it.
This is what we all will keep feeling till we keep living this second-hand life. Until and unless we start doing something…
