Concentration camps

Today I woke up to the sounds of alarm. I did not want to face the day but I knew I have to. After the customary bath in disinfectant, I ate the same oats gruel I have been drinking for some time now. Without sugar, it was awful but it was breakfast anyway.

I was a fraction early in getting ready today. Each day I am becoming more and more adept at the routine. I had a few minutes to spare before my pickup would drag me to the camp. For a brief moment, I contemplated escape but I knew that was futile. When I don't step out on the road after the second honk, frantic calls would be made, officials alerted, and before I cross the next road, I would be traced and nabbed. All I would earn is a black mark in my monthly report. I opened the heavily censored newspaper; I found four instances of bombings of which two were suicide bombings and the glorious victory India in bowl out cricket. The bombing did not shock me and the victory did not inspire me; so, I folded the paper and set it aside; life seems to be as miserable for everyone as it if for me. I wanted to get an head start and maybe finish up in time to eat supper at home. But my pickup van had other plans. It was ten minutes late when it finally pulled into the street. I hate these daily rides. Poeple are packed so tight that you feel the fear and the despair crawling under their skins.

Our camp is an imposing one, infact it's the largest camp in the entire country where more that 15, 000 Homo sapiens labor their lives out. I showed my ID card and was let in. There was talk on the floors that a few people were stopped at the gate and they never returned again. My job in the camp is to keep tab of mails and sometimes assist in book keeping. Most of the others worked on assembling parts or generating codes and it was worse for them as they were monitored all the time.

Lunch was a weak atempt by the over-worked cooks at optimization-potato boiled, par boiled and nonboiled. Nevertheless, no one seemed to notice. There was a slight murmor among the rebel faction but even they have lost hope in fighting for such things.

As the day progressed everyone grew tense as the calls for extra time will be made. When the general did not make his usual rounds at 4.00 pm, everyone sighed in relief, after all we will be allowed to drag our weary selves home by 6.00. But it was not meant to be, the general made his rounds at 5.00 PM and was even more aggressive owning to his irritation with the minister whom he had met an hour earlier.

I shrank back in fear as he passed by and that seemed to please him. I was quickly pulled out of the line and put on the production floor. When I walked home my fingers were sore and my eyes were blurred. I was hungry but was too tired to eat. As my tired body hit the bed I prayed for a good dreamless sleep. My last thought was "things haven't changed much since the Nazies; While people were forced into concentration camps by the Nazies, today, I am forcing myself into something similar by my own choice. Does choice make so much of a difference between right and wrong?"