Back at home (IV)

Read the first, second and third part of this story.

THIRD LOOK…?

In Switzerland, newly disembarked from the aeroplane, I notice certain details which had not shocked me before. In this airport, marbled, super-clean, top class but cold, nothing is compatible with human warmth. The walkway is surrounded by luxury shops. There I notice a female employee, who, driven by loneliness, allows herself a moment of respite. For the time the discussion lasts, she steps out of her role of perfect saleswoman and describes her daily life to me: 

‘If I arrive a quarter of an hour late, I get a fine; they are always checking on us, we have to perform well. If we’re not careful, we soon lose touch with the family and, in the end, all our friends.’    

My beautiful, spick and span country is itself also familiar with a kind of dreadful, hidden poverty… Before leaving, I tell her that God is thinking of her and that she should talk to Him about it.

Here too there are posters everywhere. Adverts with divinely beautiful women, who look down on us from above, flaunting jewellery and wristwatches like talismans to success. These pictures are shaped entirely by the hand of artists who are computer experts. They are merciless idols, venerated in secret, who wrap their worshippers in a cloak-like layer of hypocritical untruth, by making them believe that this is not the case, but I am not taken in; I can see perfectly well that they are dressed in every detail exactly the same as these pictures

Through the window of the train I no longer see the poverty of the slums, nor the vivid, contrasting colours of India, the spontaneous smiles of passers-by, something unexpected at every street-corner, the hordes of young people, all those craftsmen-cum-handymen who dream up the most bizarre jobs – each one stranger than the other – in order to survive, neither those old men with long, white beards, nor their eyes sparkling with life…

I am almost shocked to see the deserted streets (just a few old people!). Where are the inhabitants of my country? Are they all hidden away in their homes, hypnotised by their screens? Or has there been a catastrophe that has decimated practically the whole of the population? What on earth has happened during my absence (all it takes is for me to vanish for barely a few weeks for everything to go down the drain!)?

Maybe it’s not here that the upheaval has taken place, but in my perspective…  

The first poster

A poster with one of my drawings is soon going to be stuck on billboards in the streets of India and like seeds from the world beyond will sow hope in the hearts of the Indians who will see it…

P.S. Order this illustration in poster format.