Remembering Karl Marx

The Paradise Hotel crossroads is a busy traffic junction. On my way home, I wait for the lights to turn green thrice before I can cross the signals. It is not as bad as Bangalore, all it takes is around 15 minutes. Friday evening was one such evening and I was busy staring at bums of other cars. There was a little space between my car and another small car and a cyclist was busy trying to wedge through. His cycle scraped the mud flaps of the small car. An old man of around 74 came out of the car, shaking out of anger, clearly out of control. He held the poor cyclist by the collar, shook him a couple times and let out a string of choicest abuses!

The cyclist clearly was a white card holder (below poverty line) and the old gentleman was from the urban elite. Once the tirade was over, the cyclist shrugged off with a stoic face. The old man, happy to have got an opportunity to abuse in public, also went into the air-conditioned comfort of his car.


When two worlds collide, wonder what impressions are retained of each other. 

1 comment:

  1. Rajesh, you describe a scene in a street in India. The conflict is the same that is tying up the American Congress in Washington, D.C. Thanks for making it clear that the problem is a global one.

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