A Day in Khaki

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I got up from the bed in the morning. There seems nothing to wear over under shirt and I had to rely on an earthen coloured shirt which one of my friends bought from fashion street. Briskly I put on my matching loafers and moved out to buy my daily dose of potion for breakfast and newspaper. The provision shop owner was typical businessman who entertained you as long as u craved like a good customer and ditch you the moment you ask for a credit or little value good with huge currency note. I had asked from his assistant my provision which he pleasingly kept in a carry bag. To my utter surprise I had forgotten my wallet and was wondering running again to the third floor with my pumped lungs.Tenants especially the single ones had same fate they had to live little closer to the sun in areas where economy run on house rents. The mere thought of it brought about sweat.
I had to admit my idiosyncratic behaviour. The shop owner said “nothing to worry you may pay later after all the shop is all yours.
I doubted my fate as is always expected when we waited for any luck based results. But the kind words had come as a respite which saved a solar ride to my third floor. Before he could change his mind I had to quickly collect the bag and move on. On way the newspaper vendor who never paid any heed unless you had the exact no of coins as the price, greeted and handed two copies of morning news. His move made me sure that the expensive Vodka which I had last night has miraculously transformed my persona. When I pretended to put my hands on my empty pocket he humbly asked not to. This was beyond my understanding all I wanted to is to have a look at my appearance in giant mirror.


On arriving at the gate the guard’s salute made me feel sovereign of the state. Also the salute fueled my limbs to embrace mirror as soon as possible.Our bathroom had large mirror contrary to the size of bathroom itself thanks to the earlier metrosexual guy who also left a stack of hair removal creams with cache of its prey hairs.. Yuk.Life size mirror image certainly makes you stop and observe yourself minutely for a moment, same happened with me. After watching head to toe it was simple to conceive I had looks of a cop and all because of that pyjama which must have travelled through filthy foreign buttocks to flea markets and to brand conscious me. Shirt trouser and shoes together made me perfect cop. All serendipities showered upon me was due to virtue (non virtue) of that uniform.


The word Khaki has Persian origin Khak which means soil. The uniform once adorned by men of honour is soiled now. When the wearer of this is nearby, instead of feeling secure we feel petrified and try always to avoid its confrontation.The duty officer of a market place often enjoys offerings from the hawkers vendors and in course of time this is engraved in his soul that the share is his right .Actual problem arises for people who cannot pay to his greed because they work hard nonetheless hardly make both the ends meet.The loss of money can anyhow be grieved but the guilt and distress brought by such acts creates a crator in hearts against the system and helplessness of self cannot . Such distraught brings sorrow and discontentment in society. Thieves and criminals are afraid of this Khaki because few good men earthed themselves to gain the honour for it.Selleable things don’t make up for that honour. The irony for the society is these soiled brads are the only hope.


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