On a lazy Sunday afternoon, in the plush, air-conditioned
interiors of his twentieth floor apartment in Malabar Hill, one of the up market localities
in Mumbai city, Raj sauntered into the shower. Music blasted from his home
theatre system. He sang along as the warms jets of water sprayed all over him. Half
an hour later, he emerged from a thoroughly refreshing bath, and went about his
day.
On that same Sunday, on the other side of town, in the
slums of Dharavi, Sanjeev scrambled to take his place in a long line of women and
children waiting with empty buckets for a tanker to come to give them water.
Sanjeev estimated there were at least a hundred people ahead of him in the
line. If he were lucky enough to get some
water, it would be his first shower in weeks, and a welcome, albeit temporary, relief
from the hot midday sun.
*****
It was the first weekend of the New Year, and Elizabeth
decided to treat herself. That afternoon, she hit Oxford Street in London, on a
shopping mission. She purchased the latest handbag from the winter collection
of Louis Vuitton, and matching high-heeled shoes from Mary Jane. Still, her
appetite wasn’t satiated. After hours of window shopping, she finally settled
on a fur coat, and to put the icing on what had been a prolific shopping spree,
she picked by a cream-colored, flower-decorated hat, inspired by the Kate
Middleton school of fashion. Elizabeth smiled smugly as she headed home. She
was ready for the year ahead.
On that same weekend, in the town of Kismayo, in the
southern part of Somalia, Amina waited patiently. She had been hovering around
the garbage dump for several days. At the start of every year, an elderly Somali
gentleman would dispose of a bag full of old clothes there. Amina wasn’t alone that
day. This repeated ritual had caught the attention of street kids all over
Kismayo who, like Amina, loitered in the shadows waiting for their moment. When
the old man eventually performed his annual clothes dump, a scavenger hunt erupted
amongst the waiting kids. It was fiercely competitive, but Amina was lucky enough
to score an old scarf, and a long purple t-shirt that was stained, and slightly
torn. It was over-sized for her frail, four foot tall frame, and extended
almost till her knees, but she would gladly take it. It was her first new piece of clothing since last year. Hopefully, it would get her through the rest of the
year.
*****
On the weekend of Easter, David and his girlfriend sat
down to feast on a seven course buffet in Las Vegas, where they had come down
for a holiday. The spread of food that lay before them was mind-boggling. It
ranged from Chinese dim sum to Japanese sushi; from build-it-yourself tacos to
French omelets; from hand-tossed pasta including pumpkin ravioli, to chocolate
fondue; that buffet had everything. There was an extensive salad bar, and a
huge sea-food section that included smoked salmon, crab claws, marine lobsters,
shrimp, oysters and assorted condiments to go with it. There was also the
finest kobe beef, succulent lamb chops, and top-of-the-line caviar. In fact,
there was almost too much choice. David re-filled his plate with course after
course. They ate for nearly four hours, and he must have taken at least seven
trips to the buffet. It was like Christmas for his taste
buds.
On that Easter weekend, Okello trekked for five miles
barefoot before he reached the city of Kampala, the capital of Uganda. He had
been slaving away in the fields for more than fifteen hours a day. His
employers were relentless in their demands and the workload wouldn’t let up.
Okello was making this trip to the city after receiving his weekly pay. His
body had been fading away slowly, with a thin layer of skin covering distinctly
visible bones. He made his way to the local market and got himself a loaf of
bread. He sat on the ground to devour his first decent meal in days. He gobbled
up slice after slice, before it was finished in less than five minutes. The burning sensation in his stomach was evidence to how badly he had needed
that meal.
*****
Saturday night was the most happening night in New York
City. Ryan and his friends were set to party. They started with a quick dinner
in midtown, followed by bar hopping in the Village. From then on, the night
took a course of its own. They shook a leg at night clubs, smoked some hookah
at lounges, and sang their hoarse voices out at karaoke bars. Ryan didn’t know
how many drinks he had consumed. It was five am when he took the subway back
home. He could scarcely recollect all the events of the night. He did however,
have the phone number of the pretty girl in the black skirt who he had
danced with. He smiled as he got off the train. The lights from Times Square
shone in the distance. In New York City, the lights never went out. It was the city
that never slept.
Saturday night was full of the
usual horrors in the rebel district of Bab Amir, in the city of Homs, in
war-torn Syria. Attack drones from the brutal ruling regime of Bashar Asad,
launched bombs and missiles, with the intent of destroying all targets. They would
not stop till they flattened the entire rebellion. The international support to the rebels was
still thin, and thousands died every day. Hafiz and looked around
him. He was lying on a bunk in a makeshift medical centre, where the horrors of
war were inescapable. On the bunk next to him, the man had lost both his legs.
Another man was brought in with his eyes popping out from their sockets. Hafiz’s
own wife had been killed last week in one of the blasts. But he was not alone
in his loss. Almost every family he knew had suffered. Brothers, cousins,
wives, fathers, all victims to the brutality.
Hafiz
had a broken kneecap that night, and was probably the least injured person in
the room. The deafening roars of the explosions continued to fill the night sky.
The most disturbing sight Hafiz saw was when a nine month old baby was brought
in, with its face completely disfigured from shrapnel wounds.
He
didn’t sleep that night. Most Syrians didn’t sleep at night, since the violence
had begun. His thoughts were centered around how long he would manage to stay alive in that battle-ravaged country. Then, darkness descended on the nation of Syria.
*****
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