Watch 'em

The Day after Diwali, our mail stood at our door in the morning and started crying. She said that her boy had lost his arm while bursting firecrackers the previous day. He had lost his arm and there was nothing that the Doctors could do about it. I was shocked on seeing her at my door instead of being in the hospital and then some sense prevailed and we managed to give her some money and then she left.

Thereafter I and saurabh were just discussing on how a freak accident cost the boy his arm and a fair shot at life. He blamed the parents for having not taken care of the boy. But I didn't agree with him. These kids are brought up in a different environment from people like us. We all had privileged upbringing with parents spending enough time with us, and taking care of us. But that is not the case with these families. There is constant pressure on them. The mother is either working in some house as a maid full day or comes back home to cook more food and complete the household chores. She rarely gets any time when she is not busy. Same is the case with the men. Most of them are working most of the times and are outside the house.

In such an environment, its really difficult to keep a constant tab on your children. They usually roam about the streets, loiter around with friends and in general waste their time. the parents do not have the education to know that their kids needs to be taught something more than what they might be learning in the government school. They would be too hard pressed making two ends meet, to pay attention to supposedly ‘minor’ details like ‘child upbringing’. So how would they be able to take care of the boy when he is bursting some fire cracker in some corner of the street?
At the same time, how a child turns out to be in her/his behavior pattern, has a lot to do with what the child experiences every day at home. That’s true, I agree. Children copy and model their behavior on how the adults surrounding them behave. But still, I somehow find it hard to blame the parents for their kids going wrong.

What would I have done if I were faced with poverty, meager income, work pressures and bickering family members? I would also busy myself doing things to keep my family alive, rather than see what my kid is watching or doing in the streets. No, it just doesn’t sink in… I cannot blame the maid and call her as careless. She had more things to worry about at that point of time. She didn’t know that her kid would end up like this while playing… …. Am still confused…

Creed - Full Circle

I am just waiting for Creed's reunion and their first release called "Full Circle"

I love their work especially 'With arms wide open' and 'One last breath'. Such acts must continue with their good work... and so am excited... wow.... with arms wide open !!!

Well I just heard the news today
It seems my life is going to change
I closed my eyes, begin to pray
Then tears of joy stream down my face

With arms wide open
Under the sunlight
Welcome to this place
I'll show you everything
With arms wide open
With arms wide open

Well I don't know if I'm ready
To be the man I have to be
I'll take a breath, I'll take her by my side
We stand in awe, we've created life

Woke up !

Woke up to Friday morning with the first show of Wake UP Sid in Bangalore. Good movie and even better are the songs. Am Buying the CD although the songs are already downloaded (pirated). Shankar-Ehsaan-Loy are true to their style of not having any style. They can make just about any music, any sound they feel that goes with the movie's soul. Lovely... listening to it as am typing this.

Go catch the movie if you want a nice feel good movie. My friday was made after this movie... especially the songs... well placed and well paced...."Life is crazy" !!

When love took a train heading south !!!

So near that she could smell him, maybe even touch him. But all that she longed for was maybe a kind look or a small word. But he wouldn’t. Not his fault, she knew but how could she not feel let down.

A bright pink saree covering every inch of her slim body. Even her hair parting was adorned with the bright pink dash of ‘sindoor’ that Indian women apply on their foreheads. A typical woman from the hindi heartlands of central/northern India. She walked up the footpath and came up to him. Her gait gingery but confident, brought her to him, so close and yet he didn’t twitch. A man can never keep himself from feeling the presence of a woman near him. She is destined to make him acutely aware of her presence, so much that even the most docile of women can assume an imposing presence. This moment lasts for only a few seconds, before everything’s back to normal. But here, he did not even twitch. She was so close to him and by no means was she unattractive. A chiseled face, spotlessly clean skin, tall and poised she stood there in the narrow gap of the footpath, almost smelling the back of his neck with the pallu of her saree pulled across half of her face. And no sign of acknowledgement from him. He continued pulling out the puris, scooping the masala, filling each puri with the masala and dipping the puris in the tamarind water – serving the best pani-puris of Bangalore.

A man in pursuit of excellence in the humble task of making pani-puris for a living – a repetitive, highly energy sapping exercise that calls for high levels of concentration especially when you have multiple customers and counts to keep on the puris that you have served out. The customers can be quite irritating and irrational – some want it sweet, some spicy, some salty, some dry, some slow, some fast, some with onions, some without, - all at the same time. He took pains not only to make it the tastiest chat in the city, but also to set an example in customer service by being polite and humble with his customers. Every new customer was immediately acknowledged and given a sample to taste, mindlful of the fact that each character in his customer list has a different taste, a unique craving. He was respectful to elders & women ( who come in plenty ), polite & loving to children. Everyone went off feeling like a king or a queen from his stall, except she.

There was something in her hand, a vessel. She stood there for whole of 5 minutes with that vessel, waiting for him. She stands there and catches my eye. She turns away and looks at the road. Then she looks back at him and sees his busy back turned towards her and lets out a sigh – the sigh accentuated by the heaviness of the pink colour. Her body does not move but her eyes are a riot of emotions ranging from longing, impatience, love, desire, loneliness, irritation and humiliation. She is desperately waiting for him to acknowledge her presence, have a kind word, maybe even a slight touch of his hand while handing over the vessel. Was that asking for too much? He meanwhile, I feel knows that she is there but is reluctant to let go of his emotions. Only a highly emotional man can hold back his emotions. And I could feel him holding back. He was not looking up, constantly shifting his gaze from the puri to the masala, to the water and to the customer’s plate. He looked into the eyes of the customer, but would not even glance at her while she stood there waiting for that one ‘moment’.

At last he finishes up with me and suddenly there is a slight turn of his body and he whips his hands and pulls out the vessel from her hands, keeps it in his stall and continues preparing for another customer who has by that time barked out his demands. She stands there stunned at losing her only chance of maybe a look or a touch. She looks at me, maybe aware that I am drilling through her mind to know how she feels and suddenly her look hardens. She hides her emotional upheaval and suddenly her face assumes a shield like demeanor that is supposed to tell the world that nothing was amiss there. But little did she know that I had been witness to a critical moment of her life that gave me an insight into a space highly personal.

She stood there for some more seconds, hoping to atleast hear him bark out some orders to her…. In this insufficient state, even a harsh command would have sufficed to calm her jittery nerves that were acting up in a way only a newly wed’s can … maybe due to unfulfilled desires? I am not quite sure. But she made her way slowly back from where he was and started walking away, this time less confident and but more determined. Her determination to hold herself, took her to a distance of about 8 feet, before she stopped again. I was intently watching at this hindi-movie like situation. She turned back with the saree pallu in between her gleaming white teeth. Her kohl-lined eyes turning into one direction for the last time before she made her way out. And again she was met with the same lean, busy back of her husband. Her glance fell on me again and I stood frozen there, fearing if I had unwittingly intruded into her space but this time she did not try to hide her pain. Her face and eyes, her high cheek bone, her lips – all a clear reflection of her anguish at being not recognized as a presence in her husband’s life. She slowly turned and I realized that I was looking at her, shaking my head, with a sad smile , maybe giving her a comfort that “its allright bhabhiji, he is just busy in his work”!

It’s an everyday event in the lives of all the migrant workers across the country. They come to cities, sometimes with their families and live in inhuman conditions where there is little time for two people to spend time with each other to even start any love. The walls of the city close in too soon, the air suffocates them too soon, the ceiling comes down too soon, the friends and family are back too soon, the work starts too soon and nevers seems to end that soon, the child is born too soon and the money starts running out too soon, the body starts ageing too soon and the life seems to pass away too soon…. Everything happens just a bit ‘too soon’