Have you been to Raffles Place MRT at 9:30 in the morning? It is a sight to behold.
Scores of people, dressed immaculately, wearing some of the best brands that even a month of my NS pay would never be able to afford, exit the MRT and systematically make their way to the exits. Huge escalators run noisily with a distinct chug up into Raffles Place and the mass of bodies slowly and patiently separate into 2 man streams with their heads bowed down, not wanting to start their day with a misstep. The few rebels diverge from the main group and head to the staircase where the journey up, though more tiring, is certified fit by their health minded conscience.
Once on top, the streams converge into a river and then diverge again into the different tunnels that lead to the different destinations, but to the same goal. A few lost souls pause at the junctions, aware of their goal, but unaware of their destination. But the river sidesteps these pebbles and continues flowing into the tunnel. However, whereas the river of nature ripples, gurgles, splashes and burbles, the river of man is an assortment of clicks (of heels), from the sharp to the loud. The clicks that quieten when the escalator beckons.
Everything moves like clockwork, the trains, the machines and the humans. The manner in which the humans behaved reminded me of a scene from a video clip I watched long ago, of cows being herded into lines that eventually led to their slaughter. From the expression, or the lack of it on the face of humans, I feel that there is not a lot of difference in the eventual fate of the two groups. Other than the fact that with people, it is not their body but their souls that are slaughtered, slowly but surely.
A feeling that my friend echoed when I asked him later on if he wanted to be like one of them.
Scores of people, dressed immaculately, wearing some of the best brands that even a month of my NS pay would never be able to afford, exit the MRT and systematically make their way to the exits. Huge escalators run noisily with a distinct chug up into Raffles Place and the mass of bodies slowly and patiently separate into 2 man streams with their heads bowed down, not wanting to start their day with a misstep. The few rebels diverge from the main group and head to the staircase where the journey up, though more tiring, is certified fit by their health minded conscience.
Once on top, the streams converge into a river and then diverge again into the different tunnels that lead to the different destinations, but to the same goal. A few lost souls pause at the junctions, aware of their goal, but unaware of their destination. But the river sidesteps these pebbles and continues flowing into the tunnel. However, whereas the river of nature ripples, gurgles, splashes and burbles, the river of man is an assortment of clicks (of heels), from the sharp to the loud. The clicks that quieten when the escalator beckons.
Everything moves like clockwork, the trains, the machines and the humans. The manner in which the humans behaved reminded me of a scene from a video clip I watched long ago, of cows being herded into lines that eventually led to their slaughter. From the expression, or the lack of it on the face of humans, I feel that there is not a lot of difference in the eventual fate of the two groups. Other than the fact that with people, it is not their body but their souls that are slaughtered, slowly but surely.
A feeling that my friend echoed when I asked him later on if he wanted to be like one of them.
" Its not what I want to be doing. But it is what I will end up doing.
Guess, over time, one just gets used to it"
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