At the Bandra traffic junction ,though the signal was red, horns were blaring. It being a criss cross of roads has temperaments soaring and is not a very pleasant place to be in. Each person there wants to get away from there to the next patch of road. The only one who was there to stay was the traffic constable. Tall and lean, his bike and helmet stood not far from him, leaning on the side of the road. It was an exceptionally hot summer morning and the traffic constable was contantly touching his brow when i saw a young woman step out of a cab, run towards him and pat his arm. He turned to face the woman dressed in balck trousers and a crisp cream shirt. she placed a cap on his head saying something. She turned around and hurried back to her cab.
The Lights changed from red to green.
stories like mini skirts
Delicious shit
Her shoulder length black brown wavy hair was covering part of her oval face and half her eye. as she shot her gaze towards me she was squinting. this not fair, plain looking girl, with wheatish skin, a blemish or two on her cheeks, skin darkened below her eyes, long delicately carved, perfect pretty nose with thick discoloured lips. To the world an average face. she was no exception, to everyone who was there to see.
To a particular pair of eyes, she was Goddess. The most real beauty. Hers was a face full of expression. Eyes that never stopped palying. Lips that never stopped moving, those fingers which kept pushing strandes of hair behind those artistic ears from which hung sequineced earings. As they dangled, they’d steal light and flash stars at you.
Ordinary day made extraordinary
I was going about my work , frantically reading mails , responding to them , fingers goings tak- tak -tak on the keypad; when i came across this mail from my college friend Minal. She had written to me to tell me about her “25 mins with Dr. Kurien, the visionary of AMUL, India.” Reading about his contribution to the farmers in Gujarat and the impact he created on their livelihood triggered inside me a chain of thoughts…
….Salaries are not important, what dress you wear , which car you drive is not , to make a qualitative difference to lives is……… not being able to wear an expensive , exotic dress at your wedding is okay, passer by… not being able to make a worthwhile contribution to your environment and lives around you is failure. Not being able to use all your resources, education , capacity and skill to the betterment of the lesser fortunate is demeaning. Not being able to be instrumental in fighting for a just community is shameful. More unfortunate than having a bashful wedding reception, a million dollar wedding dress, a six figure monthly pay cheque.
Do these thoughts have more value than putting them down here?
Minni wore a long face, when i met her.
“What is it?” i inquired
” It happens all the time” words were spilling out of her mouth” the bus conductor always says he does not have change to give back and i lose out on the money he is supposed to return to me .” Minni was visibly distressed.
“Call the PMT helpline number and report it” i said
0 20 2 4 5 0 3 3 5 5 she dailled, Reported the incident giving details of the bus no. , route , time , destination of the bus.
22 days later, she received a call from the helpline saying the conductor was asked to pay a penalty of Rs.50.
Reservations
Aaihan enters the government run bus. All seating space is occupied. Her eyes are fixed on the notices on the left side of the bus that read “ All seats reserved for women”
Most of these were occupied by men. Her hand slipped into her handbag and she fished out her Olympus T100 digital camera, focussed on the mans face sitting on a seat with the reservation for women notice in the picture frame.
By now several heads turned and the one snapped asked in annoyance “why did you click a picture of me?”
“ This picture will feature in the newspaper tomorrow with the reserved for women notice besides your face” Aaihan said.
As the bus braked, Aaihan jerked forward and was shaken from her fantasy. “When will i begin acting out these glories fantasies” her lips mouthed.
At the garbage bin
“Not again”, they moaned. As they saw the free scavenging waste picker approach the roadside garbage bin.
It was to be another day of fighting and maybe biting with this waste picking woman for scraps of waste to feed their kids, thought the two pigs at the municipal garbage bin.
Stinky life situations
Sometimes our circumstances are so stinky that we fail to see beyond them…. . Its easy to be sucked in by the stink and get stuck. only if there is perseverance to see the vision beyond
unexpected beauty is always awaiting.
Tit-bits from a mail…
How true that many of our attitudes and beliefs are formed on the basis of our life experiences. Some good and some need refocusing…. I am happy you used the word “thread” … the whole thing about connecting, the sacred moments… Relating with you gives me that feeling of “thin places” (a phrase used in celtic spirituality). Yes, you have rightly said that she must have gone through some tough experiences and just does not know how to integrate or express them. Hence the strange mechanism of throwing things on to others… rather than see it for themselves, we all do it in some way or another. All of us are much connected and always drawn to each other. The opposite also prevails how we live in the illusion of being separate from others, and then go on to think or treat them accordingly. I also find myself at ease with the loads of time that I spend for people here especially the ones who feel unloved at the same time drawn to areas of my life where I feel unloved too.
Sometimes I feel guilty that I am not giving 100% to all the gifts God has given me and to all the possibilities of life. That too will happen…..in its time.
truth statement
When criticized, tell that person ” i am another you”
Bus ride in Pune
As we sat at the dinner table Devika began to speak ” Getting into a bus in Pune is like taking a ride on a horse back. You step into the bus and as you’ve managed to grip the bar at the door, the bus jerks and your head falls back and you make a full circle with your body forced out of the bus and you pull yourself in again. An experience that is otherwise reserved for when you sit on a very enthusiastic horse. “
