Misanthropic me.

My next entry, boys and girls, will be about people.

I have always been interested in this form of animal life, and am alternately fascinated and repelled by it.

There have been days when I've looked out of my bus/car/auto window (except that autos are more window than wall) with a jaundiced eye and wondered at the teeming masses busily going about their lives. Shoulder to shoulder they trudge to work, to eke out a living, so that they can eat and live for a new day of trudging to work and eking out a living. Day after day, day after day, they carry on, hating everyone who gets in their way, loving those who throw them a bone, never looking at the bigger picture, always focused on what they need, what they want. Like the evil guy in the matrix said, humanity spreads over the surface of the Earth like a disease; dividing and reproducing, sucking up all the resources of the land, burning holes in the sky, poisoning the waters.

Admittedly these thoughts are invariably on Monday mornings when I am at my misanthropic best. And before the teeming masses bay for my blood, let me assure them (since they all read my blog;)) that I include myself among them.

Then there are days (you guessed it...Friday evenings) when one goes for a stroll around the neighbourhood, and realizes that we humans are not so much a rapidly spreading cancer, but in fact, a treasure-trove of stories. You look intently into each face you pass, and see that each one has a fascinating tale to tell. You look up at the curtained windows of the houses you pass. And wonder at what heart-warming or thought-provoking story is being played out behind the drapes. In the mellow light of a weekend sunset, the elderly woman who smiles at you as she hobbles past seems more interesting and dearer to you than your favorite novel.

On such an evening, our flaws are only something that make us unique. They make us human. Who wants Perfectville anyway, I think, we would all die off like flies from sheer boredom.

I smile tranquilly...and turn to head back home.

Only to be rudely awoken from my pleasant reverie by a man relieving himself in full view of everyone, or an autodriver who swerves several inches out of his way in an attempt to run me down for sport. By the time I've picked myself out of an open drain or two, or climbed a mountain of rubble also-known-as-a-pavement; I have gone back to my earlier opinion.

Welcome to the see-saw world of seeing everything from both sides. Welcome to my world.