Community: A transferred epithet

A Community is a group of people living in one place, having common profession, or, common platform of existence.

The flock of hens kept together in a Bazaar here serves as a representative. ‘Flock’ has a definite semblance of community, but the one here does not convey the image of a natural community— the hens haven’t assembled because of instinctive affinity that creatures of the same species have. These are beings brought together by forces over which they have no control. There are hens here cramped together on the ground; there are others in box-shaped cages rising up in storeys. The most striking feature of this community is its unawareness of the crisis of its situation. They are peaceful, not feeling the need for a change, which is necessary for their survival. They are not living; they are just being there, moving with time— in an inertia of existence.

We all belong to a similar community— we the people of the busy cities and apparently ‘meaningful’ busy lives. We lead life like the enactment of an ever-repeating play, going through day, then night, then the same old day again, and on and on. We are also not a natural community—circumstance bring us together—the need to work, study, earn— the need to ‘peck’ out food like the hens. Look around from your ‘box-shaped’ concrete storeys – do you see the numerous poor cramped together on the footpaths? You don’t? Maybe even the hens in the boxes think they are higher than the ones below them. Aren’t we all oblivious of our inertial existences?

We are this universal community which has forgotten that life is not about leading it out to the end monotonously, but about having some excitement too. We exist in the transferred epithet of the hens’ inertia, not attempting even a departure from it through the scope of the open-window in the hen-cage. I am not a pessimist who says that this society is meaningless. Men must work and earn to live but these must only be the means and not the purpose of life. The open-window must sometime be taken to explore the meaning of life.
By--

Sarit

Dawning Dusk

The setting sun spread its burning rays
(Now) Relief breathed as another day ends.
I craned up my neck to gaze outside
But the half-closed window shut the light;
Only solitude silently was gushed in.
As the hot breeze blew through the blinds, thin
I heard only a crow crack out;
Waiting to hear a noiseless sound.
Not a car, not a bus passed
Was it only the truth I yearned?
I will wait and eternally wait
Only a sigh comes out -- No escape!
By--
J