Chintito
Where Have All those Good Days Gone?
Once upon a time a banker did not connive to rob his own bank.
Once upon a time a bus was a safe mode of transportation for bringing children to and from school, to ferry family and friends from one district to another, to a wedding, to a place of work and business.
Once upon a time a businessman was more into trade and industry than politics.
Once upon a time a cocktail was a mélange of liquors or a mishmash of any number of light-hearted items.
Once upon a time a father was an experienced child, readily reprimanding his own child, son or daughter, whatever be the complaint from whosoever.
Once upon a time a fisherman or a fruiterer did not know about formalin, the concept of artificially adulterating food for human consumption had not crept in to contaminate his morality.
Once upon a time a footballer or a cricketer or a player of any sport was an epitome of a healthy life, high spirit, and joviality, far from any thoughts of illegal earnings.
Once upon a time a government servant served the people.
Once upon a time a judge's verdict went unquestioned, un-debated, and un-paraded.
Once upon a time a member of the parliament was more into politics than business.
Once upon a time a merchant was known as the supplier of goods for the right price he has asked for.
Once upon a time a neighbour was more like one of a family.
Once upon a time a policeman was never at the receiving end, was lovingly addressed as 'thola', much due to his bottom attire that fanned from the hip downwards.
Once upon a time a politician was a natural leader, penniless deliverer of peace, uncompromisingly striving for the rights of the people, more so the downtrodden.
Once upon a time a singer/ a musician/ an actor strived to reach the higher echelon of spirituality, and not one would consider not appearing at a performance after making a mere verbal commitment, not necessarily sealed by any transaction.
Once upon a time a son would find it inconceivable that his parents should wait for him eternally at an Old Peoples Home.
Once upon a time a sports competition was sheer entertainment, untainted by fixes, not headed by armchair bigwigs with at best the experience of a gallery spectator.
Once upon a time a teacher was as seen farthest from corrupt and fraudulent practices, a monolithic pillar of integrity, building a nation through sincerity and devotion.
Once upon a time an engineer was someone that an entire town or village looked upon as a developer of the local infrastructure, someone with knowledge and integrity.
Once upon a time an Imam of a masjid was not accused of training and harbouring terrorists.
Once upon a time bribery was seen as a sin of greedy men (never indulged in by women) receiving in silence from tight-lipped service seekers, some tormented, others equally greedy to receive an undue favour.
Once upon a time hartal was a tool of the democrats fighting the despotic, spontaneously supported by all and sundry.
Once upon a time journalism was seen as the conscience of the society, the colour yellow unheard of, intimidation not practised.
Once upon a time most of us would speak the truth, and nothing but the truth whatever be the consequences.
Once upon a time no doctor was ever accused of treating for undue money, for diagnosing for profit, for opting to operate for pecuniary gains, for recommending hospitalising for some unseen alliance, for holding patients hostage.
Once upon a time politicians had respect for each other, and would agree to disagree.
Once upon a time students were revered as constructive nationalists, just and fair, ready to sacrifice and lend a helping hand, a Scout with a good head.
Once upon a time we were immersed in the simplicities of life.
Once upon a time we were not this far away from happiness.
How we wish for the return of once upon a time.
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