The Mall

So we've got this new mall,with branded clothes,in Silly.There are individual shops too,scattered all around Silly,but this new one is the biggest and costliest one where one tiny coffee shop has to pay 30k as its rent.
And Sillygurian people would stab me to death,if i told you that they are a bunch of assholes,beacause that's what they are.I'm a migrator,and i don't know the reason of my migration.And ofcourse they'd bury me alive ONLY IF they located my blog,and after locating read it,which i doubt they can,because a blog is unknown to them...and unknown,God.Oh well,then i am supposed to be a bigger God.
So anyway,we've got this mall,and 'em Silly people are treating it as a monument,they've never been out of this place.They were born here,fed here,married here,and they make their kids here,the most they can do right now is come to the new mall,with large families,everyone holding picnic baskets,the children with water bottles around their neck,some clinging to the mother,some crying.No i'm not spiteful,it's just that i loathe this place,like i loathe going to school.So they go to the mall,the men walk ahead,with solemn looks they point out to their family members the various shops.They look around bewildered.They get astonished to see the capsule-lifts.And ofcourse when it comes to going to the upper floor or coming down,there are concrete steps...but no,they'll use the escalator...question is,how?First the man of the house will get fully padded,and perhaps wear helmets and cautiously give it a try.After they succeed incessently ,they'll teach their kids.The kids cope up with it fast.Next,it's the turn of the females,they'll pray to God,pray for their safety,they'll grab their husbands' arms but never take a step towards the ghastly-automatic-sinisterly-stairs.After an hour the wives decide that concrete steps are the best,and the others give in.Then the auto-rickshaw man,who they hire for the day paying 50 bucks an hour,come hurrying,saying they need to leave,he's got an emergency call.So they all leave.Outside the gate they'll click a photo as a memento,and perhaps,several years later,when an Earth Quake destroys the mall,they'll point to a photo phrame and tell their grandchildren,"Once upon a time,Silly had a palace too,and I had gone there."
And the worst part of it is,they aren't illiterate,they are like the frog in the well.And i am not a social snob,i just feel helpless about the fact,that they are the people i live with.