Their definition of life

From a  journal entry last month:

The rain has been beautiful since morning. When the droplets touch the dry, starved leaves and branches and roots of trees, it feels heaven. The quenching of thirst of a desert walking man.  And what other dharma does the clouds require than the blessings of these creatures, alive - just to see the rain.

The blissfully ignorant have constructed concrete cement buildings with cubicles in them: hundreds of cubicles which have been lighted so well that even when the dark clouds gets the city gloomy, their cubicles will feign sunshine. Hundreds of applicants get through “tough” tests and interview. Why? To toil in these cubicles from 9 am in the morning to late into night, six days a week and they think they love it. They shout over their ever ringing phones, they lose their temper, get irritated and use swear words. When they get a deal done, they are proud and think they are smart. Of course they are smart. They make a lot of money. They buy even bigger houses with air-conditioned rooms and even bigger air-conditioned cars with bed like seats. They tread in their soft carpets, then in their soft cars and tip toe to their carpeted cubicles. Every evening or so, they go up the escalators to buy their essentials, come back in their comfy car seats to their soft carpets at home. And for them, they are the luckiest, the richest, and the most happy people in the world.

When the routine is done every day of the year, every year of the decade, it becomes the life style for hundreds of cubicles in hundreds of companies and it builds cities and nations for whom soft carpets, comfy seats are the definition of life.