Hum Sab Chor Hein ( We all are thieves)

The alarm crowed and annoyingly he snarled at it. If it were a real cock he would have prepared chicken soup of it and would have swallowed it in a single draught. He tried to summon enough courage to face the routine Monday morning blues after enjoying the rocking Sunday night. "Are men born to enjoy the world or to drudge like a bullock, till their lives ends", he wondered. "My father lived for me, I am living for my children and my children would toil for their children. Does any one live for himself. Every one must read, Ayn Rand’s book, ’The Virtue of Selfishness’. Perhaps Henry David Thoreau was right when he said that work was invented because people haven’t found worthy activities for human beings, "he thought. He again buried his head under the pillow and tried to sleep but was unable to sleep. In a supine position the memories from unconscious mind flooded his conscious mind.

His name was Harish but since he was brutally honest his colleagues would jokingly called him Harishchandra. He used to walk as if he was flying, May be his chariot of a body was flying on the wings of truth like a Yudhistir’s chariot in Maharabharata. But he was unhappy because of constant taunts of his nagging wife. But his wife was right; she was not demanding luxurious things but basic necessities of life. Many a nights he was unable to sleep. The Demons and the Gods were churning the ocean of his soul. He used to pray to God for guidance. And one day the inner daemon of Socrates told him that he would get answer from a next day’s newspaper. Next morning he had curiously opened up newspaper to read the headlines:

’In a sting operation an official was caught red handed while accepting a bribe ’

’Quack writing genuine medicines and genuine doctor writing spurious medicines caught’

Disgusted he had turned to the inner pages.

’Grain meant for public distribution system sold in open market ’

’Milk made from urea and other chemicals’

’This paper must be renamed, "The Bribe Times’’,’ he muttered.

He turned to the last page.

’Officer having paltry salary lives in a bungalow worth 5 crores’

His wavering mind had taken a firm decision that day. He had started accepting bribes. But the swagger from his gait was lost. The flying chariot of Yudhistir was grounded. But his wife had started to revel in rosy dreams because of the extra income. On that night he had written his first poem:

"As Krishna liked Makhan from robbery

So people like income from bribery.

It is truly said by the sages,

God made men in his own image."

’But to publish a poem also, one needs to pay bribe’ he thought.

As days passed by Armageddon had started raging in his mind. After all he was the son of non-corrupt officer. He had again prayed for guidance. Next day his friend had brought ticket of "Lage Raho Munnabhai’. He was impressed by the Gandhigiri and decided to implement it in his life. But, He knew that complete Gandhigiri was impossible for him. So he pledged that he would take bribe only to pay a bribe.

Unlike his other colleagues, he would finish the work for which the bribe was taken. And if he got more amounts he would return it. Next day the swagger had again returned in his gait. His chariot had again started flying, if not at supersonic speed then at least at a subsonic speed. After all he was an honest bribe taker.

Today he was already late. He got up from the bed. ’One must live in the present’ he thought. He took a newspaper in his hand. Headlines screamed:

’Opposition party overthrows ruling government, Horse trading suspected’.

’Major rivers are polluted because money meant to build ’treatment plants’ were used to built private swimming pools.’

’The superpower threatened to nuke a small country, if it doesn’t give up his plan to build a nuclear bomb.’

’Saab chor hein’, he thought. Then looking at the 29 inches latest ’Plasma Television Set’, which he had got as a bribe, he smiled and corrected himself, ’Hum Sab Chor Hein’.

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