At nights sometimes Aab wanders on the roads. He enjoys chill winter nights, wet roads just after a heavy night shower, and the warm summer nights, equally. As he walks around, he gets glimpses into people’s houses. From one room tenements where half a dozen occupants occupy every square foot of space, to palatial drawing rooms where a lone occupant can be seen relaxing in luxury. Of course, the common factor in all these houses is inevitably the TV, blaring away its sound and holding humans captive by its fast changing visuals. Humans who have come to the end of a tiring day, willingly surrender themselves to the anonymity of the idiot box, with thoughts dulled, emotions regressed and initiative put on hold. Aab looks around and is over-awed by how “houses” have grown in opulence and style. And yet he is numbed by how “homes” have shrunk to mediocrity and have become so impersonal where every human lives in a shell, pierced only by the TV, Internet or the mobile phone. There is no common family activity, minimal interaction, and an emotional distancing – leading to what a writer aptly described as “Living Together Loneliness.”
