His daily ride to work was a long one, meandering through winding city roads choc-a-block with careless parking and haphazard driving. Yet he was in good spirits today, as he pondered upon how his city living was vastly better than his father's village life.
Urban life was what civilization was about - village life was apparently relatively downtrodden.
"When my father was a boy, he had to walk many kilometres to the neighbouring village for school as well as to work," he recalled the tales his father would tell, "but my city is so full-fledged that everything is within city limits. I never venture out to another city in need of anything. City life is so empowered."
He had to brake suddenly to avoid an unexpected pot-hole. He went around it and continued...
"They used to walk through the forest barefoot. That's so risky, especially with those sharp rocks and thorny shrubs.. But city life provides us with so much protection.." he had to honk hard to force his way out. A traffic cop had stopped many riders without helmet and they had jammed the road.
He always wore a helmet. It was necessary to save those last strands of hair on his head.
As he drove, he reflected upon various improvements that city-life had bestowed upon him compared to his father's village life, like, he could listen to the radio while the village-boy only had the chirps of birds and the swish of the day breeze; he could glance upon glamorous advertisement banners and movie posters along the way, while all that the village-boy had was trees, muddy roads and cattle.
"Oh the cattle are no exception, even today. They amble upon the roads even today as if it was still a village for them.. " and he laughed at himself, "Some things never change in this country..."
And he continued driving through the smoke and cacophony, to his office at the other end of the city. A city that had grown so big by slowly (and silently) consuming all the villages around it.