“In the marketplace it’s all or nothing. Win or lose. A rise in salaries has meant better houses and fancy cars. Yet this is not wealth that can be considered collective. This is plundered wealth, taken by force from someone else and carried off to your own cave…”दिमाग में किसी पहचानी दुनिया की तस्वीर बनती है? बनेगी ही, क्योंकि ऐसा नहीं है कि समानान्तर हम यह दुनिया जी नहीं रहे; शायद ठीक-ठीक उन्हीं शब्दों में न जी रहे हों जिसका अंश ऊपर मैंने चिपकाया है. एक और टुकड़े का नमूना देखिये:
“The container swayed as the crane hoisted it onto the ship. The spreader, which hooks the container to the crane, was unable to control its movement, so it seemed to float in air. The hatches, which had been improperly closed, suddenly sprang open, and dozens of bodies started raining down. The looked like mannequins. But when they hit the ground, their heads split open, as if their skulls were real. And they were. Men, women, even a few children, came tumbling out of container. All dead. Frozen, stacked one on top of another, packed like sardines. These were the Chinese who never die. The eternal ones, who trade identity papers among themselves. So this is where they’d ended up, the bodies that in the wildest fantasies might have been cooked in Chinese restaurants, buried in fields beside factories, or tossed into the mouth of Vesuvius. Here they were, spilling from the container by the dozen, their names scribbled on tags and tied with string around their necks. They’d all put aside money so they could be buried in China, back in their hometowns, a percentage withheld from their salaries to guarantee their return voyage once they were dead. A space in a container and a hole in some strip of Chinese soil.”समुंदर के तट के मुंबई नहीं, इटली के नापोली का रिपोर्ताज़ है. रोबेर्तो सवियानो की 2006 में प्रकाशित ‘गोमोर्रा’ का एकदम पहला पृष्ठ है. बाद के पन्नों पर भी ज़िंदगी के बेमतलबपने के ऐसे वृतांतों की लड़ी बनी रहती है. भले फ़िलहाल कहानी नापोली की चल रही हो, थोड़े समय के बाद लगने लगता है गोमोर्रा ऐसा पराया भी नहीं. हमारा अपना भी है..