Once upon a time, there was a little town. It was a place where inhabitants were more popular than landmarks, where being social was a part of living, where people were satisfied with whatever little they possessed, where the status of a person was determined by his grace rather than his assets, where being cordial was not a necessity but a habit, where good food was meant to be shared with all the known persons, where a cricket ball hitting a window pane would instigate reprimand but not duels. I used to live in one such town. It was little, much like a cocoon, with a world of its own, away from the world that was outside.
The world is no more the same. It has changed. They say that change is good. But I could never accept it. My little town has been polluted. Polluted with jealousy, greed and amoralilty. In the race of being modernized, the cocoon that gave my little town its life, has been vandalized. Where has the belongingness gone? Why the neighbours who were earlier considered as 'Uncles' and 'Aunts' are now no more than 'people of Flat No. 121'? Why achievements have become more important than happiness? I miss my little town. Sometimes, I feel it to be illusionary, a figment of my imagination, maybe my childish sensibility couldn't unravel the stratas of the hidden feelings that lay beneath that superficial affection. Or maybe, the world indeed has changed. Change, that's not good. Not good at all. Amen.
They tried to change. They have changed.
They didn't try to change. They got changed.
They resisted change. They were changed.
They were dumb. They haven't changed.
P.S. Well, I'm dumb. Like it, only if you're dumb too.