A Trojan Horse’s riposte

Source: The Hitavada      Date: 04 Jul 2018 14:15:09


 

 

 

 

 

 

By BIRAJ DIXIT,

The worst thing that can happen to you after annihilation is listening to those grieving over your loss. It’s a good thing that they tell you that you will be missed and remembered, but the endless brooding is insufferable. You so wish to die again. I’ll be dead soon, or so, they say. Only if these wailers will let me die! You see, I stand guilty of living long. Rather, too long! It will hardly be an exaggeration to say that I have been living for way too long. And so, I must die (but for these wails).


It feels good sometimes when you lose a personal battle to win a war that achieves the larger good. My story, like that of the Trojan Horse, has been all about gregarious misadventures and lost battles; untamed curiosity and unheeded wisdom; and about the inconveniently heavy price that one pays for just a bit of convenience. So you see, I must die so that the world survives. For, I am that bit of convenience; the gregarious misadventure; the Trojan Horse. I must die. If only, this brooding would stop.
Yeah, you guessed that right. I am the infamous, insufferable plastic, whose sudden demise has left people crying. I have lived with them long enough to know what they miss. I am not just plastic. I am convenience and we all know the extent to which humans can go for a bit of convenience.


Ah! How these brooders brood! “Is plastic more lethal to the environment than humans themselves,” asks a lady who finds herself absolutely unprepared for the day when I make the exit. “Had it not been for humans, there would not have been any plastic or carbon emissions or environment pollution.” The argument is indeed so refreshing. But my dear lady, my faults at being long-lasting may seem slight in comparison to how much humans have lasted and wasted and I am, of course a creation of human hand. But, I can hardly claim ownership on them as they claim of the world. For all practical purposes, the planet belongs to them and they belong to nobody. And so I am banned.


But it seems that I would not be allowed to depart so easily. Humans are forever unprepared. They knew my death was nearing and yet they never truly took any note of it. The Government has imposed a ban adding grave inconvenience to my existence. Here, in cities, towns and villages of the State of Maharashtra the worthless me is now worth a minimum of Rs 5000/- in fine so that people immediately take their hands off me. And that’s what they did. But what can you expect of humans? When they can attach no importance to their entire wonderful existence, why would they give any import to a government ban and so I sit pretty in cupboards, under the beds, between books, under the car covers etc, etc. They are yet to find anything more convenient than my good self.


At first, I thought they were really serious about killing me. Shopkeepers were sending woman home asking them to bring bags along. A dairy keeper asked a lady to bring a ‘dabba’, if she wanted milk. She had one in fact. Alas! A plastic one. She was brooding over the future, when she would have to dangle along a steel container. The juice seller offered no straws along with the paper glasses and the grocers were using newspapers to wrap ‘dal’. The once essential me remained only in discourse. I thought I was as good as dead. But with humans you can never be sure. They can make such hue and cry and bring things to a naught. Presently, they seemed to be engaged in maneuvering their ways around the long arm of the law.
The ban has come too late, I believe. They have banned when I have seeped deep into their entire being! From here on, it would be a hard battle for these poor slaves of convenience. To unlearn the art of easy living, to go back from where we started and forget all about what transpired in between, and live that which has been next to impossible for humans, despite so many calls – a life of wisdom, seems next to impossible. Here I am watching with bemused anxiety. Can humans truly give up on this lovely-Trojan-Horse-of-a-gift?!?


It would be still easier to cut whatever exists in the outside. But what of me that has percolated deep into human’s being? Can’t you see me in them? The smiles, the faces, the expressions, the look - so much of plastic in there wouldn’t you say?Once upon a time the backbone of the gentlemen used to be made up of steel, they say. Steel, incidentally, is a long-lasting metal. It is known to add a lot of mettle to all things that it blesses, including humans. Humans use it to make their buildings and bridges and anything that requires strength and mettle. It is the metal they still use upon which to lay strong foundations. Back then, it was found in men who lay foundation of stronger homes and stronger societies. That steel and its mettle reflected through the entire persona of men –in their thoughts, their eyes, their words and their actions. They thought, and said and did exactly the same. Women wore it in their conviction and resolve. Children got it as a gift with which they sharpened their skills and dreams.


Then, I came along and the plastic and plasticity has become the human character since. It is now, so smooth on the surface, so ready to mold and bend and so elastic with anything, even their thoughts, words and actions. I have gifted them so much variety. Their eyes and words now carry different expressions at the very same time. They promise one thing and are flexible enough to do the exact opposite. My plastic coating insulates them from any heat that gets generated from within on not keeping the word. They have now so completely given up on steel and wear my character. They are hardly builders now. They are simply lethal as I am. How can they ban their own disposition?


There is a human proverb. “A man is known by the company he keeps.” And I have long been a human companion to leave no effect.But I do wish they would give up on me completely and let me die in peace. No, I demand no martyrdom. Those born out of lust of mass production so that they can be sold cheap can hardly claim one. But I know I would do a yeoman’s service to mankind by not being around. Not that they deserve it. But unlike me, they are God’s creation and wherever God exists in whatever small amount, hope lives on.My only dying wish in that they bury me completely. No point in giving up on my outward forms while still carrying me inside them.
Let me completely rest in peace.Goodbye,(Hopefully forever)Yours as sincerely as I could be,Plastic l