Aug 25, 2006 11:48 PM
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(Updated Aug 26, 2006 11:09 AM)
Year 2047.
India is celebrating her 100th independence day. The Prime Minister is delivering the Independence Day speech. All the mobile network operators are broadcasting it live. Two months back India had been nominated as the latest entrant to the Supreme Council of Nations. The economy is on a high again. It is a indeed a proud moment for all Indians.
As the modulated voice of the PM fills the lobby of Xanadu, the old age home, Orknob resting in his Lazyboy sofa, closes his eyes. The memories along with the pain entwine his consciousness. Nostalgia is a weakness, which can be irresistible for people like him. He still could visualise his high school physics teacher roaming in the class room with a three foot long ruler. His throat yearns for the taste of that cup of tea which was supplied in gallons in his college canteen. The fragrance of his newborn son now only lingers in his dreams. The voice of his parents who taught him the meaning of unconditional love, reverberates inside his head. He wishes he could again hug his wife tightly and forget all the pain.
The parade of the Krrish missiles on the LCD screen in front, fills him with repulsion. He cringes in his seat and mutters to himself “ Will our leaders never learn from their mistakes? When will we be free from terror and distrust?” Pakistan, after invaded by US in the late thirties, is now governed by a council headed by a very old and frail gentleman called Adnan Sami. But the insurgents and the fanatics still survive in the badlands, launching occasional attacks over soft targets. Kashmir had been converted into an US military base. Poverty and prostitution is rampant in the valley. The curse of terrorism haunts mankind like a multi headed Hydra. The religion of violence had survived and some say flourished in the twenty first century. After the death of Osama, he had been given the status of a messiah and his followers are now called Osamites. India had survived a series of terrible terrorist attacks over the last two decades. The worst remained the one in Bangalore ten years back when the ITPL buildings were demolished by a series of high intensity bomb blasts in the basement area.
The peace around Orknob suddenly get shattered with the shrill noise of a siren. It seems Xanadu is being given the honor of a visit by some publicity hungry celebrity. Soon a latex clad silicone implanted specimen was seen flashing her plastic smile all around. She was surrounded by a dozen mediaperson busy capturing her every movement in their mobile intruments. As she leans forward to gift a multi sensor head gear to Orknob, he looked into her eyes and whispered….”Thanks for the present. But what about the future?” As if on cue the strains of the newly remixed national anthem filters in the room. Everyone stood up and started practicing their patriotic expressions in front of the cameras, Orknob shuffles back to his room swinging his stick and whistling his favourite tune from Kuch Kuch Hota Hai.
