“Have these mouthwatering samosas. Try this tamarind chutney with it,” said my colleague with an infectious enthusiasm and large smile pasted on her face. Even before I could lay my hands on the oily stuff, others in the room had already devoured this delicacy and washed it down with cups of cold drinks.
Turning towards my host I asked, “What are you partying about today? Anything special.” And prompt cam the reply, “Haven’t you seen my byline on page one today describing tragic death of people? Everyone congratulated me for the unusual feat and I had to oblige them with a party.”
With these words she got up swayed away to another seat offering food to another colleague. I could barely manage to finish the contents in my plate and slyly put it under the table.
Once again I was brought face to face with people celebrating deaths. And I suddenly remembered behind every story there is yet another story. A story of jubilation over death. A story of partying on fatal accidents. A tale of congratulatory notes and SMSes.
Death always makes news. More tragic the incident, greater the casualties, make perfect equation for hitting page one.
Much goes on in scribe’s mind than is visible to an eye.
Mind giggles but face shows depressing thought when unusual number of causalities are reported. Fingers charmingly move at fast pace to send death reports to be published on the front page.
Tragedies have unveiled many faces that remain hidden behind masks of love, sympathy and caring.
But then I suddenly remembered that my profession is a place where one gets paid for numbness and insensitivity of mind and heart.
