Ramu sat on the porch of his house with the hot tea steaming in his hands. He liked sitting here like this in the evenings after work. He had lived here all his life and started working when he dropped out of school at twelve. His father had become too sick to work, his liver rotted by a lifetime of cheap liquor.
Ramu was 48 now, though he knew he looked older. Six children and a life of hard toil in the estate had seen to that. He wished he could have done more for his kids but it was a challenge just to feed them every month. Three of them also worked in the estate while two had cleaning jobs in the nearby town. His youngest son, who was the smartest among his children and whom he loved dearly, had one day followed his friends to Kuala Lumpur and never come back. He heard he had ended up in jail, but there were no letters, no word.
He would go there and bring him back.One day.
He knew he should stop the drinking. But it was the one time he felt free. With his friends. He had nothing to look forward to anyway. There seemed no hope. Not that he cared about his own future anymore; but he wished his children had something to look forward to. But it was pointless. Here they would stay and here they would die.
It was election time again. The big cars would arrive stirring up the red dust of their roads, The ruling party flags had been up for a week now. There would be ceramahs every day. He only went because they would hand out crisp new fify ringgit bills sometimes. But he didn't listen to what they had to say anymore. He knew it was all lies.
A long time ago, when his father was alive,they had sold the little jewellery his mother owned and invested it in a company the politicians had started. A new leader had come to their estate and spoken. A new hope for the Indians he had said. You will all become rich.
They never saw their money again.
And every time there was an election, they would come and say the same things. But he still lived in the decaying, ramshackle house where his father had lived.This time there was a new group who had come and given a ceramah. They were younger and they had passion in their eyes. None of them had quivering chins or bloated stomachs.They didn't ask for money nor did they hand out bills.They spoke of demonstrating against an uncaring government. They spoke of being arrested, beaten and jailed because they fought for change. Perhaps not for you, they said, but definitely your children will benefit. You have given them fity years and gained nothing. They give you 50 ringgit bills but they have stolen your life and now they are trying to steal your childrens future.Vote for us for a change. Give us a chance. We won't fail you.
Ramu stepped lighter as he walked home that day. He felt a little younger.
It was getting dark. His friends would be here soon. Perhaps he wouldn't join them today.
"Hope springs eternal in the human breast" -Alexander Pope
No comments:
Post a Comment