SHORTS-V

The Union Budget is raging.....on television, on the internet, on WhatsApp, on Twitter, at neighbourhood nukkads and it seems today, almost at every place. Now, having never passed a single of my martinet of a mathematics teacher Mrs Santra's dreaded monthly maths tests, I have this pathological loathing of numbers, of all shapes and denominations. And therefore, I have no interest either in the Budget or in the crunching of numbers that it brings up. But the denizens of social media, totally insensitive to my dislike for numbers are sending me innumerable feeds on the Budget that run like this: 'Fiscal Deficit at 3.2%; FDI Investments 1.45 Lakh Crores, Income upto 2.5 Lakhs - Nil Tax Income above 2.51 Lakhs to 5 Lakhs- tax reduces to 5% Tax from 10%, Agriculture 10 Lac Crores credit, MNREGA 48,000 Crores, Rail Budget 1.31 Lakh Crores, 67,000 Crores for National Highways, Disinvestment Target 72500 Crores, 10,000 Crores to PSU banks for Recapitalisation, 2.44 Lakh Crores under Mudra scheme, Defence Expenditure 2.74 Lakh Crores, Long Term Capital Gain 50 Crores...........................................!

My head reeling with all these numbers, I run away to the local bazaar. It's a typical bustling, busy middle class Indian market, the only one of this locality of our little mountain town. But here too, the Budget reigns with shopkeepers, grocers, customers and even the odd window shopper glued to every available TV set.

I walk, like a fish out of water when a street urchin crosses my path. He is tiny, all of three feet and naught and in this terrible Himalayan cold, wears just a thin torn cotton shirt and a thinner cotton pants, held together by a lone safety pin and lots of luck. As he passes me by, I smell unbathed days and see thin ribs sticking out from under his frayed shirt.

Nothing useful to do, I follow him, my ruthless blogger brain composing his already composing his description. He enters a grocery store. I follow physically and peep in. He's looking up at the wall somewhere beyond my gaze. I crane my neck a little further to see what he is seeing. It's a TV, mounted on the wall of the shop. And here too it's the Union Budget.
Such huge numbers, I think and though I marvel at their humongous scales, I am unable to figure out how all these schemes and sops and five year plans would solve this little ragamuffin's current and immediate requirements : some hot food, a warm sweater, perhaps a hot bath and a shelter for this night.
I glance back at the child sadly, the irony wringing my insides. But in the kid's face, there's neither sorrow nor self pity as he watches the television quite unconcerned of his present penury, enthralled by the colourful dancing images....and I realise, my elitist, feel-good pity has no place here.

I retreat, leaving them be: a tv screen playing out numbers in droves, of money in lakhs and crores and arabs...and a little boy shivering in his tattered clothes but watching entranced, dreams as big as those numbers dancing unfettered in his eyes.....................!