The Handicapped Society

The doors to heaven are puny so as the society’s imminent good days that are just fancy words on papers. The world I live is filled with hatred and pity, not towards the swoopy personages, but towards myself. ‘Shouldn’t have born’ said a frail skinny structure of flesh and an empty stomach. This isn’t any odd quotes, but a univocal feeling of embarrassment. The feeling of security has dwindled to a minority in the society, born with a spoon of perpetual prosperity. The so-called democracy has rephrased itself to ‘demo-crazy’ where the winged cherub with glistening smile and posture fancy walking along the hapless only to bag that moment of beep sound once in every 5 years. Still, the majority of meager complaint very rare than the uncrowded noble’s demand for new wheels of myriad luxury.

So far you heard the rhythm of distress, but my world isn’t at such grief. There are real noblemen who are very alienated to the taste of corruption. The unanimity of the working class made a significant mark of hope in the heart of those waiting for so sang days of wellbeing. The parallel route to government’s hallway is to be blamed along with the opaque curtain of reneging promises. Nothing happens if I shout the voice of chutzpah because the society is made blind with the biased mirage of sham promises.

The abounding human resource and brains are being shipped to build someone’s empire, those who think its real deal forgets the fact that mother land is crying for hope. She raised her child to fly the chariots of knowledge, but when they mellowed they flew in search of better warmth leaving mother insecure. But nobody can’t be grumbled because patriotism doesn’t offer them much of opulence. But the homeland is trying its best to stitch a better pocket to hold the radiant brain, still there is a big hole of blemish.

On the one side, the population is busy flushing themselves for a better pay, whereas on the other side the mass of green wealth is depleting, both in terms of revenue and production. Agricultural lands are mutating into piles of concrete edifices to accommodate the snowballing population. Good old ranchers are already been into the history book and the neophytes are getting tangled in the wire of information technology. Still, a small populace of entrepreneurs and horti-lovers have the gut to try different boots, which still keeps the green dream alive.

The outline is a palpable thought, you cannot outrun the humongous ark of Noah filled with the question of ambiguity. But the tiniest you add, might sum up to cripple a wave, at least some years later. When you sprout the seeds of future, try to water them with a different mindset which will inspire the young buds to think out of the box.