Hazy shade of grey

Hazy shade of grey
J.L. Gupta

It was a cold day. Very chilly. But inside the courtroom, it was warm and cosy. The judges entered on the dot at 10. Immediately they were on the job. In less than two hours, the case was finished. My day's work was done. A colleague suggested we go out for lunch. Despite the obvious need for girth control, I grabbed the opportunity. We decided to drive to the nearest hotel.

A crowded road. Too many people. Too many vehicles. Moving fast. All rushing. But there were the poor too. The lepers. The handicapped. Sitting on the footpath. Also in the handcarts. Braving the unkind weather, begging for a morsel of food. Even for money. Looking at them, anyone could feel that there is nothing but poverty in this land.

Within a few minutes we were in the hotel. A majestic entrance. The liveried `durban' to open the crystal glass door. A big lobby. The glittering chandeliers. Flowers fresh and fragrant. There was a sweet scent in the air.

The distance from the road to the restaurant was short. The difference was clear and visible. Poverty and profligacy lived in such close proximity. Within a few yards of each other. Looking at the hotel and the people inside, no one could have imagined there is poverty in India. The affluence was too apparent. It was all over the place. Outside was another story.

The restaurant is reputed to be serving the best buffet meal in town. Continental, French and Indian dishes. Exclusive linen, china and silver. Nicely laid. Smart stewards to assist. A distinct aroma in the air.

We were soon taken to a table for four. By the window. Overlooking the garden. There were good shrubs. Bushes. Flower-beds. Nicely manicured lawns. An occasional peacock. The ambience provided a feast for the eyes.

Not surprisingly, there were a good number of people. More were coming in. Those inside were sipping their drinks. Savouring the specialities. Talking. Laughing. But there was no clutter of the crockery or sound of the silver. It seemed a perfect place for a quiet and hearty meal. A total change from the noisy world outside.

The silence was short-lived. We heard a loud laugh. No music. The five Amazonian mouths were overflowing. The young men entered the hall. Everyone turned his neck to have a look. Only to see a freight train of verbiage. Unmindful of the look on every face, the exuberant young men strutted forth. Soon they seated themselves.

Undoubtedly, the youth should have a presence. They may also deserve and desire attention. By all means. But why all the noise? Why this total lack of sensitivity to the surroundings? The young men may have been a tonic to their family, but they were certainly a pill to the hotel guests. A bitter one.

There were 12 persons sitting on the table next to ours. They were also young, healthy. They were chatting. Even appeared to be cracking jokes. Laughing. They apparently liked the food. The wine. Also the company. Even the place. They were apparently enjoying every moment. But not a whisper was audible. These 12 young gentlemen and ladies were there to be seen. Not heard.

In a while, we had finished the meal. We had enjoyed every bite. But we could not forget the difference. Between men and men. In this wide world of ours. On the roadside and in the restaurant. Also in the restaurant itself.

The world has poor and rich. Bad and good. There are some who work hard. Others who hardly work. But one thing in certain. Empty vessels make the loudest noise. The good and efficient do their job silently. Others talk more. Do less. The difference between one and the other may be small. But it is significant. It is the cause of everything else.