Sitting inside the cubicle, I wonder what goes outside the glass tinted windows I spend eight hours of my life. I never looked beyond my glass cubicle. Someone is preparing tea to sell so that he meets both end of his family and they are assured of a square meal. The tiny lil' girl begging at Marine Drive does so much against her wishes. Dismayed she is with the life being led and she is beaten to death if she fails to meet the quota. She is hungry and angry with life. Travelling faraway to Kamatipura, the prostitute sell her body to men like us against her wishes. How can she be happy to be in a business pleasing man throughout the day yet she work honestly unlike us who manipulate information, businessmen who cut a murky deal or the corrupt politician. Yet, we look at the 'lesser' human beings with contempt. We call ourselves, 'civilised.' We are the ones who lead a double existence.
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