~ Lucky You...~

Just the other day whilst speaking to a gentleman I came across made my belief stamp on what our ancestors and parents have always said. After exchanging morning greetings, during a general chit-chat about our families, kids a point was made about by my morning friend – He has two sons but unfortunately the elder one is paraplegic and is just a kid from his mind, though he is well passed his adolescence, this happened, as he tells me, due to a bout of meningitis fever that stuck the little soul when he was just three years old. The ordeal started for the parents and it is still going, now that after extensive and costly treatment, things have been stabilized if not improved.

Suddenly a thought comes to your mind – you could also be given a similar situation in life whereby you are juggling with a paraplegic son  or a daughter with muscular dystrophy – a medical condition for which there is no prescribed or known treatment and more dangerously it is progressive in nature.

All through your life always was and is in thick and thin of unexpected happenings, the turbulence can happen anytime – just consider to be lucky to have bypassed this – may be as you believe somewhat in any ancient wisdom – here I am not going to a particular religion – your current life is loosely based on acts of benevolence or aggression you have done in your previous Avtaars.

Manish, as my friends name is , calls is providence as he terms this as a one off incidence which had to happen and thus happened, though he has little qualms as why this happened , he takes it as God’s command to service this soul given to him with set of abnormalities. He caress him to be a God’s child and a responsibility – his emotional comments took me by stride and I went into severe though provoking stance – this could happen to anyone – just anyone as I thought – Manish was rather unlucky – and at the same time lucky that the has been given such a humungous responsibility to obey nature’s command.

I get reminded of book I read by one of prolific Indian administrator who had a similar happening in his family – his son was born paraplegic and whilst the agony of ‘Why Me God?” was ingrained in his thoughts, time was a godly healer and he accepted what was given to him – now that his son was more than 42 years of age, he had his own fears of what would happen to him when he and his wife is long gone – quite unlike Manish, who has a younger son who is quite responsible and takes care of his elder brother and rightly understands family’s predicament of dealing with such a situation.

Lucky you – for all of whom are sailing though – just closing your eyes and thinking about this aspect of life gives us a different dimension of thought – still, it is such a matter of great thinking – just like Russian roulette, we missed the bullet this time but who knows what happens on the next trigger… till then… be thankful for what you have and also what didn’t happen to you…whilst for other it did….

~ Mai..Thank You..~

Is this  what old age she thought of in life when she was young and in her prime? I have no idea as i sometimes think when I bypass her whilst I jog in the park. She makes a frequent appearance nowadays but just does not speak and sits silently on the side of pavement raising her hand – a gesture kind enough to give her whatever you ought to – considering her ripe age and the fact she does odd jobs to sustain a living – when she does not earn her daily wage by collecting left over plastic bags and other miscellanies in the park and selling it to the local scrap dealer – the task is arduous for her as considering the phase of life she is in. 

In reality, she is clearing the mess of the 'educated' masses and is a miniscule contributor to the society!I don’t know her name, she comes quite a few times in the park, sometimes early morning and at times in the evening – she is nameless as nobody is interested in having a chitchat with her – people strolling the aisles of park call her ‘Mai” or “Mataji” out of reverence. Some give her their daily leftovers and some currency change, whatever is given she accepts with a smile and thanks by folding her hands showcasing gratitude towards life…

Mai is just like many grannies in our ménages who are just ignored for the simple reason that they have run out of time or that they have outlived their prime – a key essential here is the humungous experience they have enrich themselves of life – which many of us ignore. Mai is surely one such soul – though she didn’t do well in life as she sits on her haunches and is at mercy of passersby, people ignore her – but observing her white hair one can extol her on the basis of life’s richness she has lived – she might not be rich with money but surely has a sense of dignified living – as she carries a bag of collected plastic waste from the park – a shame which we bestow on public places and are not remorseful of it.

The old lady does what we don’t do as a habit of basic etiquette, though she makes a small income out of it or for that matter this is what she is best capable of doing it at this phase of her life. She never sits on any of the empty cement benches for the shame it might cause to people who think of living a high society life or for that matter many such ‘Sassy’ Citizens might get offended – considering her to be an untouchable and from a lower strata of society – education has had no meaningful presence in their living of course!

A soul or a life that she is – reminds me of old age many wont would like to have – lonely and without any support or pelf, the odds are against her- may be one day I shall talk to her about her past and write the kind of life she has lived – as the next round I jog towards, I see her getting up and walking away in silence of time – not speaking to anyone , she carefully picks her baggage – her find for the day , not knowing what good she has done to all of us in the park and towards our environment – the silent worker at this age has my heartiest Kudos – for what I did what I could… as I certainly believe in this idiom of life….” Do it silently… I did mine and she does her…. The philosophy of life appears similar….

~ A Garden Family...~

She is a working mother, though she does not work in a corporate office, her sole aim is to add some bits of moolah in the family coffers, though uneducated, she works like a true professional, tending to plants and brooming and cleaning the leaves which fall off the winds – she is our park attendant ‘Rukhmani Devi’.

People know her for quite some time now as the entire family lives in a small makeshift home being provided by the district administration – the whole day is consumed to take care of trees and brooming large swathes of park, she is always consumed in her work though she finds time for her little one to caress him in between. 

A motherly love always bestows upon her when she sees her little son (she lovingly calls him ‘Mani’) running out of patience and starts to cry profusely – she tries to cuddle him and gives him ‘toys’ which consists of tree barks and big leaves which have fallen off trees and shrubs – the child surely has a differential childhood, though for many such mothers who are in the grip of abject poverty, raising kids like ‘Mani’ is an everyday struggle.

The family breakfast, lunch and dinner is synonymous with a lentil or a vegetable along with bread ( roti as we call it in India) – keeping it simple or should I say, that is what they can afford out of their dire circumstances – milk sometimes is affordable for the kid, especially when it is one of those days when the ‘contractor’ pays the couple for their work.

Both parents of Mani are daily wagers and live out of contractual jobs – living in most tiring circumstances and a meagre income, which is wavering – life for them is surely a tough – though unusual help comes from people who stroll the park and have got to know about the family and its antecedents.

Rukhmani’s husband Kishorilal is a thin build man and is the main Gardner of the park, he has been caressing the plants and implanting them for almost a decade as we know him. Hailing from western UP, he came here with his uncle as he tells me and liked ‘Delhi’s’ population and culture – since then he has found this to be his profession. Nowadays it is spring – the season of flowers, both Kishorilal and his wife Rukhmani is busy with flowers – it is due to their effort that the park has become cynosure of all eyes.

Today, I spotted Mani roaming with his mother as he has become naughty enough whilst he plays with street dogs roaming in the park – they have synonymously become good friends and I observe that the canines (some of them puppies) have befriended their new toddler friend, though the mother is suspicious of her son’s new companions but she has little options as she could not find any worthwhile time pass for Mani – either he plays with mud, making nested homes or else is playing with garden puppies.

Passersby put a tap on Mani’s head as a gesture of blessing, and surely some of the oldy uncles walking on the aisle do a general chit-chat with Rukhmani, asking about Mani – they have truthful intentions of helping him and want him to be an educated man rather than a daily wage Gardner as his father, though there is quite some time for him to graduate his life to a regular school.

As the wind blow at its speediest, Mani is happy strolling with his mother, overlooking his father working in the garden – his slipper-less feet stands testimony to a life of poverty the family lives in, though he calmly forgets the pain or injury he is prone to whilst he walks barefoot in the park – all for his motherly love what he gets every day, his of course is a happy go lucky family whose consistent hard work for a meagre income has surely given a rich dividend in the form of a flower-ridden heaven where we all go everyday to get rid of our daily razzmatazz of life and its living…

~Three Musketeers ~

All the three are aimless wanderers with no way specific to go, ask them where they are heading to, in all probability you will get a two word answer “Don’t know!” – as obvious, they have not much pressure to perform, nor do they have grand dreams to accomplish, but for sure they want to be a happy lot and enjoying each passing day as it comes.

May be life have different designs for all of three school dropouts, as I spot them earnestly searching something amid the shrubs, they may have found something interesting to put their attention on. Hearing my sudden voice, they became attentive only to find that it was a friendly tone and the purpose of it was to give them something of daily use to them. Their face cheer up with a gentle smile though they still have a perceptible doubt, which stands obvious. As I try to converse with them about their life and daily living, they reluctantly share their name and whereabouts and where they actually come from.

I don’t know if the information they give me, first of all they share their name as “Mahesh”,”Ravi” and “Sanatan”. That they were school friends astonished me as their appearance didn’t look like they had ever seen a classroom. I for sure knew they were lying and on pondering the eldest one speaks up gently “ Bhaiya, we have left school as we didn’t like education and the discipline of school!” – to dire consequences that they may now face in life, I tried to convince them to revisit their judgement but a laugh closed the scope of further discussion on the topic.

On further prodding, they tell me that they are good friends and that they live in the same vicinity, a slum nearby and that their parents are ragpickers and are not at home as they leave early and come late. This gives them the opportunity to act like loafers throughout the day as they love loitering around without any purpose. Asked if who gives them food to eat during the day, they smile again and blushingly tell me that they sometime ‘Beg’ on red lights nearby.

I asked if they could be admitted to a school whereby, they would get free books and breakfast along with afternoon meal, will they be comfortable? Their eyes sparkled with an distinct smile , they were ready to take that leap, something was surely brewing in my mind as I gave them this proposal.

As we have interchanged some information, I could ask them few more questions but before that I observe that  one of them is quite shy and would hardly speak, but he is utmost attentive of my intentions, I liked him the most, as I spot him to be subtle and observant, I doubt he would open up with many strangers as he did to me.

As I try to convince them about what lies ahead in life for them, skipping school would pay them no heed in life and that they would be living life in poverty and just like their parents, they listen attentively and understand the repercussions- as it seems to me but have no direct answers to my talk. I know they need guidance and a proper direction and that their parents are not adept in doing so as their main aim is to earn daily bread and butter for their kids and themselves.

I ask them if I could be their friend and that are they regular to park, they did say yes though I doubted their hasty answer, as they were reluctant to speak more, our quick conversation was getting to its culmination, as we bid ‘bye-bye’ and with a commitment to meet again the next day, I kept on thinking about future of these street urchins. The vicious circle of poverty has enveloped their life completely and they or their parents are not in a position to come out of it.

I surely had a plan for them to achieve basic elementary education as I rang up someone close who runs an NGO for such kids – as I was quite hopeful for a positive answer which did come, the next day was the day I was waiting for the three to appear. As expected, they didn’t as they didn’t wanted to be bounded by life’s discipline or daily regularity – may be they wanted to wander as free birds and have got used to the daily living which circumstances have bestowed on them, but still for me the search continues…

~ In Guard of Honour...~

 He stands at an upright position to prove his loyalty towards his employer, whether assisting in parking of customer cars which come for shopping or when it comes to counting of sold items whence the customer is exiting the gate, Khem Chettri is at its best – his short height and marooned looks sets him apart from other mall guards.

His smile and comfort looks is what made me feel to chat with me whilst I came out of the mall ,but I had kept him in my mind beforehand as he was the one who came out running to assist me in parking my car. As I observed him, he was doing his duty diligently and without any much tantrums, a rarity now a days. His conversant aura was the next best thing which broke the silent between us….

As I initiated to ask about his name and from where he was …

“Sir, I am from Assam and spoke up in length from a small place called “Duliajaan”, as I had a friend who was from nearby place, “Jorhat”, the conversation got to its gravity as his eyes lit up in sparkle and he beamed his ear to ear smile as if someone from his village was speaking to him in this concrete jungle of land and buildings. As the conversation matured, khemji became more friendly and started to talk frankly about the place and its natural arena, I accepted his thoughts in tandem as I knew for sure that what he was talking of was pure nature.

When he stopped, I asked “Where do you live Chettriji?”, to which he reverted “Sir, I sleep in the mall and have a small room attached, I use the bathrooms for washing and other sundries. I have been staying in the mall for last eight years! the Malik (owner of the mall) is a nice man.”

I asked him about his family whereabouts, to which he vehemently espoused his feelings and thus spoke “Sir, I have a son and he is doing engineering and my daughter is in 12^th grade, both of them as good students.” I appreciated his stance and congratulated him for doing so much for his family, he nodded with a grin and felt happy at my words of appreciation, though quite internally I could sense that he was proud father to his kids.

Suddenly, Chettriji had a task in hand and there were customer bags to be scrutinized whilst they made way to exit the mall – a task he did quite conscientiously and with sharp focus , as any misses could lead to loss to his ‘Malik’ – he was a truly honest employee, no doubt.

At last he finishes his adhoc task and makes efforts to accommodate another car which is trying to adjust in the compact parking. Finally saying a temporary adieu, I make my way towards the final exit, keeping in mind the conversation that I had made with my newfound friend, life’s best instances is actually found in beautiful conversations …. Today it proved true for me….

~ He is no More...~

He is no more today, the end come as a sudden jerk life-pulls … just few hours ago we were on whatsapp sharing the muddles life offered us and how we should align to the grand design, but suddenly a message pops up "HE is no more..." sending in waves of frenzy all over – that’s life!

A friend and a brother for more than 15 years who has been a constant source of inspiration and fights too suddenly makes you lonely on this terrain, a sudden void which is matchless and which cannot be filled with any glimpse of life anymore, such was the attachment.

Today as I type with deep melancholy, my feelings of how we have become so vulnerable to the sudden happenings and vicissitudes of our living, it surely makes me believe in the power of destiny. Every one of us is planning a fortitude for ourselves and our families only to believe that a day would come in our lives for we to make a merry, but in doing so, completely neglecting the way life is treating us. The day would never come till the time we enjoy our present day – the postponement would always prove costly!

He had mega plans to enjoy his journey of life, everyday we were in thorough conversation to do what our hearts said…those hiking trips to the deep forests in Himalayas, the gigantic ranges of the mountains would always be in our dreams – the wonderous cottage that we were planning to hire was not only a fantasy but could have soon become a reality – now all this would be a far off dream my friend, this is an ode to you , for wherever you have gone, nobody comes back but for sure you will watch me doing crazy stuff on this plane called ‘Earth’, it is not that you said 'Adieu' ...it is certainly something within left me today!

As you always said, may be today I realize you had a strong sense of intuition, “My life is no bigger than yours, and I mean it !” – to me, these lines were not joke until you proved it today – your strong sense of absorbing those hidden messages from the other world meant a true meaning to me today as it became a sordid reality for many of us not to engulf – life is certainly harsh today, for the simple reason is “You” – Goodbye my dear friend, until I meet you again in this vicious circle of birth and death, until then, rest in peace and keep watching the dance of destiny of which you were once a part of…

~ He is "Bahadur"...~

He speaks in his own sign language, which is tough to understand, you need to be observant and upright to let know yourself what ‘Bahadur’ wants to tell you. He is partly Nepali and partly Indian as he calls himself in this dialect, but nobody knows his true background. Bahadur is the self-professed caretaker of the temple which shares its boundary with the MCD park. He is paraplegic but has not led his disadvantage hit him hard. He wakes up at 4:00 a.m. in the morning and after doing his morning ablations takes bath and does his prayers and meditation. 

He has a strict schedule during the day and tends to many routine activities for which he has been doing since more than two decades. Activities which include sweeping the floor, tendering to the plants, cleaning the prayer leftovers, and sometimes donning the hat of temple guard, he is an all-in-one employee.

Though Bahadur is a busy man but he is meekly paid by the temple trust as in lieu of his financial aid, he has been given a room to stay within the temple premises. Interacting with the temple trustees to enquire about his background gives a sordid picture of human insensitively. The temple guard had found him one early morning in a small cradle with some spare clothes and a some sachet of milk and a letter of prayer and repentance for this act... he was profusely crying and wanting to be loved but his parents or caretakers played deaf ear and had a heart of stone to cast him away as if the child was lifeless. In fact, after knowing that he was born paraplegic, his parents didn’t want the child to be a burden on them from the day he was born and he was discarded quite thoughtlessly – how could parents be like that? “the guard asked, as he is still an employee of the same temple. There is another twist to this gloomy tale, Bahadur still thinks that the guard ‘Manohar’ is his biological father and that his mother died whilst giving birth to him.

With love Bahadur calls his father as ‘Kaka’ and both of them share a inseparable bond of love and respect. Bahadur is a secondary school pass out by a nearby government school, as with efforts of temple trustees, he was given ample ground to study and a volunteer ‘tutor’ was designated to provide him tuitions in weak subjects. It is due to tutor’s effort that he passed his secondary school examination and is quite conversant with reading and writing – a trait that his father lacks! 

Nowadays, I see him often strolling down the aisles of park and conversing with anonymous fellow-beings and enquiring about their health – someone has given him the update of the new corona variant ‘Omicron’ and that has become his muse-subject of starting a chat with the unknown passersby … Today he was upset as he met me with a complaint, he had just made to God… “Bhaiya, today I wanted to sit in the sun and expected a bright sunny morning, the fog has played spoil-sport…. Maybe tomorrow would be a better day….”, I nodded my head in all acceptance of his judgement and exchange pleasantries and enquired about his ‘Kaka’, he responded with a smile as he told me that he had gone to talk to ‘GOD’….I laughingly ignored his comments as I knew that his father used to clean the idols of Gods , a work type I had seen myself being done by ‘Kaka’, but I was soon corrected by him as he further stated that he has lost his father to corona last year… I kept mum and gestured in reverence of the departed soul, he smiled again. as if he was happy that his father was in the company of GOD and that now his prayers had a definitive foot to present before the almighty… as he walked away talking to himself ..he left me with a two thoughts in my mind first that he is really a "Bahadur" and that such is life and its vignettes always happening good or bad but will continue to roll come what may...!!!