What are you, but a cog in the great bureaucratic wheel? Helping uphold it as it turns and turns, changing ever so slowly that you may think it mocks time. You are also the nail that this wheel runs over, insignificant enough to not warrant a second glance. But you poke at it, insidious and consistent; damaging it with your bribes and indifference.
One may say an RTO is hardly the place for these weak and pompous epiphanies; with its squeaky fans and chairs whose legs have weakened from rickets, with its mass of impatient and irritable humans looking at their watches and talking loudly into their cellphones. But I like waiting. In queues, for buses, to get my turn. That elusive virtue, patience, visits me in these moments. Maybe to remind me of its presence.
Another day, another wait. I knew I would have to entertain myself for the better part of an hour. I saw a forlorn dog on the road. It had the saddest eyes and a coat that was on the verge of looking very unhealthy. It came near me and continued to stare. I fished around in my bag and unearthed a packet of biscuits. Two for each of us. A little distance away, I noticed a ball of dust moving of its own accord. On closer inspection, I realised it was a baby bird, unable to even open its eyes. It rolled around in the sand, not looking much different from lint on a sweater. Feeling very resourceful, I proceeded to drip some water into its mouth with the cap of my waterbottle, but the bird reacted as though it was unaware its mouth (beak?) had to be opened. Now feeling somewhat cruel, I went back to fiddling with my phone. I wanted to do something, but I must disclose that I’m much better at administering rudimentary first aid to humans. The closest I come to nature is probably watering potted plants.
A quick movement. It took me over a minute to grasp what had happened. I felt sick, in my mouth, my stomach.
It’s a dog eat bird world.