Virtues and Virtual

Its getting dark outside. Probably 06:30 or 07:00 in the evening. He is standing at the parking of a great place to ‘hang out’. He can hear lots of noise around him. The clamorous sounds of youngsters. The air emanating with perfumes and burned tobacco. The place lighted by pinks and reds and the walls painted with yellows and oranges. Rows of lighted signboards and billboards come to his view. The cell phones ringing every second or so and people taking savor in the ostentatious display of their handsets. People all around him talking in ‘Hinglesh’ and using improvised phrases. Myriads of bikes lined up seeming an organized manifestation. He sits alone on his ‘ not to be mentioned about ‘ two-wheeler. He can clearly see people, specially girls, giving him derogatory glances and he wonders why? Men (rather guys) around are dressed in electric colored T-shirts and jeans or a designer trouser. They all are trying hard to mock Hrithik Roshan from his latest cult, differing with each other only in the shades. And the girls…. well what to say, dressed in skimpy clothes with tops much above their waist lines signifying their tacit motto of ‘revealing than concealing’. Their strut is aimed to catch the perfect among those preying eyes. He, on the other hand, is in a T-shirt and a pair of jeans, descent enough to escape the jeering eyes. He knows he doesn’t fits there.

AtHe wanders alone along this ‘tinsel town’ trying to figure out where his friend is? There he sees a girl which, once (to that matter even now), he was madly in love with, standing along with lots of other guys and girls, imbibed in fagging and soft drinks( respt.), chirping aimlessly in monotony. She sees him and suddenly becomes conscious. …passes him a feeble plastic smile trying to say as if it was because of him that they are not together and she really enjoys ‘this’ company. There is also a slight enigma over her face, trying to figure out ‘what is he doing here?’. He turns around and leaves. No one notices the tiny droplet of tear running down his cheeks.. He moves cursing his friend for calling him there. He had earlier urged him not to do so but…. well it was much severe than he had anticipated. He looks around left and right for the final time and moves towards his vehicle. Silently he drives off that place.

At his home he locks himself in his room. He had always been the obedient son of his parents, compromising over almost every debated matter with friends, being fairly OK with the studies, keeping off with smoking and drinking. Now he blames himself for all the loneliness and troubles. He couldn’t fit himself the definition of “liberal mindedness” they all gave him. But now he realizes that its not your virtues but your apt towards the virtual world that makes you accepted in the society. Its not your clean heart but your affected talk that brings you near. Its not your sincerity but your charm that counts. You are not known by the veracity of your soul but the looks you carry, vogue clothes you wear, costly phones you have, cool language or ‘lingo’ you acquire and the bikes you drive. Unfortunately, he has nothing of these. All he is left with is his shattered confidence and redundant virtues.

*****Ankur