Farmers deserve suicide for their poor career choice: Elite Class

Moo’s Khayals (pseudonym), May 4, 2014

So the farmers are killing themselves. Who cares! They asked for it, didn’t they, when they chose to grow grapes over getting a degree, getting jobs and getting rich?

Food is just a luxury, iPhone is the basic necessity of life

These farmers, such morons, chose grapes. Who does that? Instead, they should’ve chosen to be like us. We sit in little, cold cubicles and make calls to people halfway across the globe. We burn the midnight/midday oil, trying to build devices tiny enough to fit in our nostrils or writing lines of code long enough to reach the bottom of the deepest ocean. Without our ultra smart devices, man would face extinction. God forbid, the next iPhone fails to detect your body smell and inform you that it’s time for your bath, disaster would be upon humankind.

They have a size zero without going to the gym. How unfair to us!

These silly farmers chose to sacrifice their God-gifted brains, and toil endlessly in the hot hot sun trying to plough their land, sow grape seeds, water it, tend to the farm’s every need all year round. They don’t even wear sunscreen in these ozone-deprived times. They eat dried bhakri with salt and their menu is the same everyday. Thrice a day. Oh wait, once a day. One needs money to eat thrice, and thanks to their pea-brained career choice, they of course deserve to eat just once, or just starve. On the plus side, they all are a size zero! What an effortless achievement! And here we are, we need to hit the gym, hire a dietician, pay a bomb for health foods and yet, this size zero eludes us. That’s how unfair destiny is.

These foolish farmers. They need to beg the banks for a loan of a few thousand rupees. No, not to buy the latest phone, or their fourth car or third house. Instead, to grow grapes. To buy the seeds and equipment. Fizool ka kharcha. Look at us, we made the right choice. I can afford to buy three kurtis in a single visit to the shiny mall, each the price of their loans probably, without looking at the price tag. See what one bad choice does to these farmers? They need to kill themselves so that these few thousand rupees don’t haunt them forever.

These stubborn farmers. Could have easily sold their farms to builders, made a quick buck and disappeared into oblivion. Lekin nahi, they chose to fight the land sharks. Kept their farms and grew grapes. Now, they are dead. That is what happens when they deny us, the smarter ones, a beautiful 3 BHK apartment on the 15th floor, nestled in mother nature’s cozy lap, overlooking lush green hills, with a swimming pool, gym, clubhouse and generator backed-up elevators.

We’ll take ACs over rain, any day of the year

These uneducated farmers. They pray to the rain gods for seasonal rains to make a living. We, the smarter ones, are busy screwing our ecosystem to make our lives a tad bit more convenient. Even the rain gods have surrendered to our menace. Alas, nobody has bothered to convey this to the farmers.

These selfish farmers. They kill themselves, leaving behind a suffering, starving, traumatised family. Oh well, maybe they should kill them too and be done with it. The rest of humankind is busy taking test drives, holidaying in Thailand or just hitting the snooze button. Why would we, the other, smarter humans bother to maybe, just maybe, help these farmers out? We made the right choice, and are thus reaping its benefits. As you sow, so shall you reap, the old saying goes. Rings a little too true here, nahi?

A chip to curb hunger in the making?

Just one little thing bothers me. Yes, we are smart. We fly, we predict the weather, we have satellites, send space shuttles to the twinkling stars, we have little chips with the memory of three elephants, we can combat deadly viruses, we can change the colour of skin in five days and five rupees, we can even annihilate a country in seconds. Waah, we are almost as good as God. The only thing we have failed at, is to be able to switch off hunger pangs. Our stomach still rumbles every three hours. We cannot eat fancy LED TVs or skyscrapers or the latest software. And, with all the grape farmers dead, where do we go for wine which is so essential for romantic dinners? What about fruit custard without grapes? Should we also be archiving the ‘khatte angoor’ muhavara?

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