Shuffling down memory lane

We used to see him every day of the year, early in the morning on the days we had school or in the evenings, shuffling from one end of the lane facing our house to the other. He must have been around 90 when he passed away in the autumn of 1996. I used to watch him walk falteringly with my heart in my mouth because there was no telling when he might trip and fall or wander to the middle of the road.

One day when I came back from school I saw him in our gully apparently quarrelling with a rag picker. When I got close enough to hear the exchange of words I was amused over the trivial nature of the altercation. The rag picker had dared to pick up a polythene bag lying in the dust to put in his sack. This act had enraged our little old man and he had snatched the polythene away. The rag picker demanded to be given back the polythene but the old man refused. I think the scavenger finally got the message that our old man was a little batty and left muttering under his breath. After his departure the old man looked around and spotted me. He stared at me a while, moved to his left and bent down as I looked on with renewed interest. He placed the polythene bag on the ground, found a large stone and placed it on the bag! Perhaps that was where the rag picker had picked it from and the gentleman did not want the bag to fly away; after all everything must be in its rightful place! Then as if a big task had been accomplished, he straightened up as much as his bent back would allow and started the arduous walk back to his house.

This frail and endearing little man was very much a part of our lives and that is the reason why his demise created a void, however small it may be. On that fateful day as I stepped out of the auto rickshaw with my mother, I felt apprehensive when I saw the cloth pandal covering the front portico of the old man’s house. On asking the shop keepers in front of our house we learned of his death. He had been suffering from Parkinson’s disease. I felt my eyes water and spirit dampen, but it was only a passing emotion. Our hearts went out to the family who loved, respected and cared for him tirelessly in his final run.

That night as I stood in our balcony staring up at the star strewn sky, I contemplated life. Life is ephemeral; here one day, gone the next. I was dwarfed by the thought when I was 14. Eleven years later I still am.

Fortune at the bottom of the Pyramid?

What set me off on this line of thought was a poignant sight at a traffic signal on my way to office a couple of days ago. Despite the in-my-face pathos, I couldn't deny the fact that it was a pretty sight. I cross it everyday but it never really registered earlier. There is a settlement of mela toy makers at that signal and their toys are beautifully crafted bows, arrows, gadas and swords, all shimmering gold and adorned with jewels. You can't ignore them- they're dressed in bright colours, visibly happy, joking with each other while their hands skillfully put together those golden toys and at the same time keeping an eye on the Oh! so many babies and children frolicking on the triangulate signal.

Coming back to the toys- I would not like something so ostentatious and ornamental; what makes them like it? What makes them think others will like it or that it will sell? It does sell, but who buys it? Ofcourse it is a form of wish fulfilment apart from the fact that it earns them their daily bread. It is only natural for have-nots to aspire to have and therefore they create images of what they want to have- the golden, bejewelled stuff.

C.K.Prahlad tells the rich how to get richer, but does anyone think how the guys at the bottom could have access to a fortune of their own? Thats why I am forced to respect Nobel Peace laureate Muhammad Yunus and his Grameen Bank. Former World Bank President, James Wolfensohn summed it up by saying, "What it has to do with peace is that it gives dignity and hope to families and it is the lack of hope that is the greatest cause of bloodshed and intolerance".

As their laughter reached my ears in the cab a few feet away, the reverie was broken but they continued to smile as they crafted their treasures and the children chased an errant piece of shiny red paper. Hope springs eternal in the human breast.

A Day in Paradise

Last weekend Su took out the team to a place called ICRISAT (International Crops Research Insititute for the Semi Arid Tropics). It is a UN body for Crop Research and they have a 3000 acre campus with swimming pool, basketball court, badminton court, tennis court, football field et al.

We reached there after lunch on Saturday and spent the evening in the impeccably maintained pool. Once the sun had set, we went for a drive around the campus and parked beside one of the 3 lakes the place boasts of. It was lovely to just sit there by the calm water, crickets providing a rustic background score and the moonlight lending the place an ethereal air. (The mandap like structure by the lake is perfect for a night-picnic with sleeping bags around a bon-fire, but I doubt they'll allow anything like that). By 7:45 we were ravenous despite it being just about tea-time by normal standards and therefore the way everyone hogged on "Chicken and Black Olives in Tomato gravy" was no surprise; we had to keep sitting a while before anyone could/ would stir! Post dinner was a lively romp around the campus, which included a photo session next to the 1000 year old stone carving of Lord Ganesh and trying all the kiddie swings- everything from the Merry-go-round to the See-saw to the Jungle-jim to the Slide. Back in the apartments, everyone sat talking late into the night in one of the well appointed living rooms (each appartment has a large bedroom, balcony, bathroom and living room), gorging on all the snacks we'd had the foresight to buy on our way there. Yes, everyone was hungry again!! By the time we hit the sack it was well past 2.

Despite the late night, I woke up an unwilling P and an excited S around 7 the next morning; the three of us hired bicycles and cycled around the campus for an hour looking for the closest of the three lakes the campus has. The early morning air was invigorating as we rode, sometimes through cultivated fields and sometimes through heaps of corn and the narrow rustic looking paths belied the fact that this was on the outskirts of a huge city. The three of us had a wonderful time cavorting around; weaving in and out of fields, locating slopes and riding down them with legs in the air, racing each other, watching the place wake up to its chores, trying to identify the many birds we came across. This was followed by a sumptuous breakfast and then Basketball- I still havent lost my touch :-) After the morning's fun work out, the three of us were ready to plop into the comfy beds, but the others were awake by then. Warm showers and multiple mugs of hot tea put us back on our feet and we were on our way back to the city. I reached the theatre just in time for Khoya Khoya Chand and it is another matter altogether that I wished I had given in to the little voice inside me that tempted me to bunk the movie in favour of another afternoon in the pool.

ICRISAT opened my eyes to the possibilities that lie before us; it seemed such a happy, peaceful, stress free and uncomplicated existence that P and I wished we could land a job there and stay put! It really is a wonder how such perfection and peace can exist amidst the chaos of a bustling city such as this. I think I'm going to visit the place again very soon; It literally charges you up!


PS- Khoya Khoya Chand is a directorial disaster. All the actors were great, but then the movie didn't really go anywhere and as a friend said, "got stuck on the Casting Couch". Rajeev Masand and I have had our first disagreement.

Lines composed in Chandipur

On a full moon night

Little waves play on the distant sea's crest

And grow bigger as they roll in to meet the rocks

In a fit of white foam,

Sending up a fine spray

Amid the sylvan setting.

The Casuarinas sway in the warm sea breeze

Lightly scented with the delicate perfume of Jasmine flowers

Everything draped in a silver cloak;

The surface shimmering in the cool light

The senses are assailed;

Sight, sound, smell, touch.

It is nature’s show;

We are mute spectators

Atop this perch, jutting out into the sea.

The wind ruffles my hair,

Brushes sensuously by my cheeks, invigorating.

The smell of the sea mingled with the heady fragrance of Jasmine.

Silver ripples on a silver sea.

The silhouette of the moon.

The unending and rhythmic whoosh-crash-swoosh.

As wave upon wave rolls in

Crashes and disperses

I see Heaven.

I visited Chandipur sometime during my graduation days with a favourite Aunt and Uncle and fell in love with the place. Chandipur is an enchanting sea resort whose claim to fame is the fact that the sea recedes 4 kms when the tide ebbs (you can literally walk on the sea bed upto the natural sea wall when it is low tide) and returns to claim the silver sand when the tide comes in. When the tide is out, a walk along the beach is immense fun because of the thousands of brilliant orange hued Horseshoe Crabs that run pell mell when they feel your footfall ten feet away. Chandipur-on-sea also boasts of an Integrated Missile Testing Range where the Indian Army has tested ballistic missiles like Agni and Prithwi . The evening I was inspired to write this was spent on a lovely wooden planked balcony that juts out over rocks washed by the shimmering waters, embraced by full grown casuarinas swaying in the breeze, with the gentle lapping of the sea on the rocks. Till today it remains the most beautiful, surreal sea scenery I have ever seen. Alas I didnt own a digital camera then.