By Irma Ikram
I went to Dolmen City one fine Friday afternoon for lunch, and it was to my great misfortune that I saw people who resembled boxes; everywhere I looked all I saw was hundreds and hundreds of boxes in the form of humans. Now a box in its quite literal term refers to a four wall container with no room for adjustment and its significant feature is a void. Now why do I say that people are like boxes? Because like a box I find that people these days are very narrow when it comes to broadening their horizons, expanding their borders, or even opening their minds as far as different perspectives are concerned. People like boxes are rigid in their ways, but the saddest and quite possibly the largest similarity between a person and a box is the void, the hollowness that resides inside them ever willing to take and accept whatever is thrown in them. What creates this void? Studies show that the intellectual degree of the masses has dropped substantially during the recent decades, right around the time that the media began to take more accessible forms. As far as taking advantage of this void is concerned I think media has done a bang up job.
It is really sad to see how people are so willingly and readily available to jump in to the box that has built for them by media or by society. And Dolmen City is one place that depicts that beautifully.
As I thoughtfully munched on my French fires I looked I peered around the brightly colored food court with chairs sprinkled about in different colors of orange and green. I basked in the translucent glow of the fluorescent lights.
As I looked to my left and saw a very well dressed aunty with her pot belly husband , surrounded by her uniform clad children running rambunctiously about with ketchup smeared faces. It could only be my assumption that her maid had not cooked lunch today hence the “Surprise” trip to the mall for lunch. Affirmation followed as she muttered to her husband that this was the last time Razia pull a last minute stunt.
As I turned my head to the left and let my gaze wander I peered upon four women who proudly donned white coats. An unspoken call to the universe and anyone who could see, that they, as doctors, were better than us the commoners. They bickered amongst themselves about diet plans and how oil be their kryptonite.
I was utterly bemused. Had my heart not been wrenched enough a gang walked by my table sending shudders though my spine. Now of course this was not your normal gang with guns and muscle, they were armed with lip glosses, branded bags, and jeans so skinny you could have sworn it was paint. They were the league of the queen bees and the wanna bes. How they rule the social sector with their tyranny and yet how short lived their glory will be.
I smirked to myself, such open books people are. Not even willing to want to change or to even dare to be different. The only way a stereotype can be broken is not to ignore it. Why should one feed or even play in to the roles that have been set up by others? Everyone is born unique, an individual, and it is not a duty but an honor to embrace who we are not who others want us to be.