sat pondering over the
economic state of India.
Reflecting, contemplating over
the things he had seen.
Referencing and cross
referencing the things
he had experienced in-
"Poverty and Un-British
Rule in India"
His theories stretching
beyond mere arithmetic-
towards the quiet starvation
of an entire civilization-
the estimate itself must have
trembled his hands.
If he had to put in numbers
Twenty rupees he would
hesitantly write.
Twenty rupees per year
as the per capita income,
He would gulp it down
like hot coal before he came
out of his room in fury.
And as he walked down the
corridor- his thoughts
lingering between rupees,
paisa and annas-
entire civilization shrinking
down to a mathematical
humiliation-
He must have encountered
his personal assistant
cleaning the floors of his
posh bunglow-
He must have looked into
his deep eyes.
The desperation in his eyes
must have asked for better
wages for the first time.
And Dadabhai must have
given away sixteen annas
to hide his own guilt.
And that's when his
Drain Theory must have
stood up to slap him,
and Dadabhai must have
given two more annas in a
hurried miscalculation.
But did it make up for the
rightful twenty rupees?
Or down the history,
the wisdom of averages
overlooked it for larger good?