Personal Stories. #20.
"Socialism = Lines"
1/n.
As we drive toward a restaurant in Brooklyn, he asks: “Have you ever stood in line to collect rations in India?”
“No.” I smile. “Never. I actually never stood in line anywhere until I moved to the US."
Hmm.
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"Socialism = Lines"
1/n.
As we drive toward a restaurant in Brooklyn, he asks: “Have you ever stood in line to collect rations in India?”
“No.” I smile. “Never. I actually never stood in line anywhere until I moved to the US."
Hmm.
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2/n
He continues: “When I was a kid in the 80s, I used to live in a one-room apartment in a chawl in Mumbai with my family. There were four of us: my sister, my parents, me. And then there were my mom’s students – she took tuition for kids – who took up space in the cramped
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He continues: “When I was a kid in the 80s, I used to live in a one-room apartment in a chawl in Mumbai with my family. There were four of us: my sister, my parents, me. And then there were my mom’s students – she took tuition for kids – who took up space in the cramped
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3/n
quarters”
I imagine him as a little boy, squeezed into a corner, stealing whatever privacy he could.
“Once a week, my mom would wake me up and I would go stand in line at 8:00 am in the morning,” he continues. “She would join me at noon after finishing up her housework +
quarters”
I imagine him as a little boy, squeezed into a corner, stealing whatever privacy he could.
“Once a week, my mom would wake me up and I would go stand in line at 8:00 am in the morning,” he continues. “She would join me at noon after finishing up her housework +
4/n
and then we would carry the rations back home.”
He looks at me and asks again: “You never did that?”
“Never!” I reply, a little guilty.
“My father being an army officer meant we got our rations on time, delivered at home. Or we had help to pick up. I never stood in line
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and then we would carry the rations back home.”
He looks at me and asks again: “You never did that?”
“Never!” I reply, a little guilty.
“My father being an army officer meant we got our rations on time, delivered at home. Or we had help to pick up. I never stood in line
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5/n
for anything: buses, rations, paying bills… somehow it all got done. Having a GoI job in those days brought invaluable perks.”
“Yeah, that’s Socialism for you,” he says. “The bureaucrats and the ‘babu class’ never experienced what we did.”
“Yes,” I reply as we get
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for anything: buses, rations, paying bills… somehow it all got done. Having a GoI job in those days brought invaluable perks.”
“Yeah, that’s Socialism for you,” he says. “The bureaucrats and the ‘babu class’ never experienced what we did.”
“Yes,” I reply as we get
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6/n
seated at the restaurant.
“That’s why I love the US and its Capitalism” he smiles.
“Yup, those Capitalist-kids with their I-phones and myriad devices who tout Socialism, have no clue,” I respond. “And I say this as someone who enjoyed the best of Socialism!”
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seated at the restaurant.
“That’s why I love the US and its Capitalism” he smiles.
“Yup, those Capitalist-kids with their I-phones and myriad devices who tout Socialism, have no clue,” I respond. “And I say this as someone who enjoyed the best of Socialism!”
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7/n
Our conversation shifts to other topics.
But as I drive back home from NYC, I think again of him as a kid, half-asleep, standing in line to pick up the government-controlled rations, and it hurts.
I wish the idiots who call for government intervention in everything & the
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Our conversation shifts to other topics.
But as I drive back home from NYC, I think again of him as a kid, half-asleep, standing in line to pick up the government-controlled rations, and it hurts.
I wish the idiots who call for government intervention in everything & the
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8/n
redistribution of resources understand that it never works the way the brochure says it does! Some kid somewhere is standing in a line. Tired. Waiting.
😔
THE END
#PersonalStories
redistribution of resources understand that it never works the way the brochure says it does! Some kid somewhere is standing in a line. Tired. Waiting.
😔
THE END
#PersonalStories
