The Last of the Macacas
She was born a macaca - brown like a slippery eel, pugged nose, large doe like eyes, small forehead; all in all bland features - no different from those of her native land.
The fair blue eyed children stared at the stuffed corpse that looked back with dull life less eyes. The cold steel bars froze their five year old fingers as they looked into the showcase which was as big as a room.
Her name was Reema and since she was the last of her kind, we had her embalmed and put on display amongst the other extinct species. She belonged to a race that was no different from their cousins - the apes.
The cold detached voice droned on as the kids studied the display.
"My mommy said even pigs were cleaner than them," a little apple-cheeked boy snickered to a miniature Dorothy who giggled back at him. Her indigo blue eyes surveyed the scene with clinical detachment.
Reema stood before some sort of a three wheeled vehicle with a garish yellow top and black bottom with a caption - autorickshaw/three wheeler. Her hand was stretched out and the voice droned on to describe her action - Reema is begging to feed her diseased family as did the majority of her kind. Her matted hair, dirt streaked malnourished body reflect signs of poverty which we finally managed to eradicate along with this species.
The little apple-cheeked ruffian continued to talk to his playmate in a loud whisper, "My mommy's been here and said that this display is called the Road Display," and he pointed out to a little gold brass plate that boldly stated - South Asian Road Display and spelt it out - trying to impress the little girl with his know it all attitude.
"Shhhhh....." another luminous cherub tried to shush the petulant boy who stared him down and continued, "You see the grayish ground? It was paved with what they called cement and those big round orbs in rectangular boxes where called traffic lights. This species was so backward that they needed rules to keep them in order."
Reema belonged to a species so inferior that they needed laws and fear of unimaginable consequences to keep them in order.
The mechanical voice reinforced the words of the boy.
"See, I told you. Watch! It gets even better," he nudged the girl excitedly.
Dorothy stared at the desperation etched on Reema's face and felt a twinge of pity. Reema was to stand forever under the cool yellow beams stripped of dignity and grace. She could just as well have been naked in her distress.
The macacas were taking a heavy toll on the planet's resources. Their lack of social consciousness was the cause for their doom. As depicted by Reema, the majority of them lived in poverty and yet continued to breed rapidly. Their social order collapsed when the gap between the rich and the poor became unbridgeable and the poor rose in revolution against the rich.
To reinforce the fact, Reema's begging hand fell and the other brown hand emerged from the dark and hit the wax figure driver of the three wheeler with a brick.
The children gasped and childish chuckles rang through the silent museum.
Dorothy somehow felt uncomfortable and broke away from the group and walked towards the next display.
The sensors picked up her presence and a voice spoke up-
The yellow people or the slit eyed pygmies......
The Last of the Macacas
- » Published on September 11, 2006
- » Type: Satire
- » Filed under: