Aab is amazed how seriously people take themselves, their position and their work. People occupying seats of authority, passing orders, taking vital decisions that move millions of rupees on one signature. People whose presence makes their subordinates snap to attention, and people whose office tables are often bigger than the coffins that they will finally go into.
He finds many such people merging so much with their chairs of authority, that they lose their own individuality – and become living personifications of their designations or titles. Aab is happy that he does not have a title, and his little throne does not carry any authority – it is only a seat to rest his aching bones.
He watches in awe and puzzlement a “boss” sitting on his seat of authority, extremely busy throughout. No time for family, no time for recreation, and no time to rest or enjoy his wealth. He feels he is indispensable and also invincible. Aab feels pity whenever he sees such people.
Down the centuries Aab has seen people in “authority”. Mortals who have no control over themselves, who cannot even order the mosquito humming into their ears, or prevent the debilitating migraine that takes away their peace of mind – trying to control the whole world around them.
Aab wants to pull such people out of their air-conditioned offices, their club, and their TV lounges, he wants them to at least once in a while exchange their laptops and mobiles with a guitar or a bicycle. They all think Aab is mad, dismiss him from their thoughts, and plan out how to make the next million.
