As all her voids filled
An ocean formed
In the depths of her soul.
Wings sprouted
From under her bruises
And she flew
Towards a rainbow
Beyond the seventh sky.
As she soared
Tracing the silver lines
They, who disrobed her soul,
Who laughed as they gutted her
Watched her with vacant eyes,
From the darkest bowels of some raging volcano.
They screamed
But
their strangled screams
Just echoed and echoed
Until it fed into the hunger of the lava.
The fire from the heart of the earth
Raged up, mercilessly
Turning their flesh into buttery ashes.
Slowly.
Utterly.
Horridly slowly.
© Anjana Rajukumar. Unauthorised copying is strictly prohibited.
A Vagabond’s Roadtrip
A bit of Zen and a bit of madness. © Anjana Rajukumar. Unauthorised copying is strictly prohibited.
Thursday 29 March 2018
Tuesday 24 November 2015
Watching from the wings- A personal reflection on Maayan - the Colours of Krishna
Kala Arpan’s magnum
opus ‘Maayan- The Colours of Krishna’
premiered at the Pegasus Theatre in Oxford on the 14th of November. Maayan is a Bharatanatyam dance ballet
based on the magical and pivotal episodes from the life of ‘Krishna’; the
enigmatic Hindu God.
Let me begin with a confession.
This write up may
come across as partial towards Kala Arpan but I have my reasons for that. I
have been a regular performer with Kala Arpan and have performed as part of
their brilliant ensemble since 2007; so even the word ‘sisterhood’ falls short,
when it comes to describing Kala Arpan. Maayan has been no exception, and
this was one show I poured my heart and soul into. (often at the expense of
various muscles in my body! ) However,
on the eve of the performance, I was diagnosed with Labrynthitis which causes
severe vertigo that left me unable to even stand up. With a lot of
disappointment I had to let Kala Arpan know that, I am in no shape to perform
the next day and pull out of the show. And there it was; with the tech rehearsals happening that
evening, with media interests hovering around and with a sold out audience and
less than 24 hours to go live on stage, I was the final casualty and Kala Arpan
had to quickly devise a contingency plan!
Feeling personally responsible for the unfortunate
situation, I wanted to be there at the least and watch the show. So I told my
vertigo to take a hike and with the help of my very supportive family, I got
myself a seat in the audience. Being an integral part of the production, I
probably do not have the right to comment on the production or the content itself,
agreed. However for that day, I was one among the audience and what I do want
to write about is what I perceived as an audience nd especially on the
performance of individual artists.
As planned, the show began with a Mallari (a traditional rhythm based piece, where the dance is set to a sequence of progressive rhythm culminating in a short sloka (hymn)). All of Kala Arpans tutors, senior dancers and students
were on stage for this opening item, looking.
The stage was filled in a shade of blue and gold and it was a delight to
watch the dancers weave in and out of exquisite formations filling the entire
stage. I kept looking for what would have been my space, but I honestly could
not find it!
Following a brief lighting of the lamp and a few speeches,
the dance ballet commenced. The whole production of Maayan was set to a Margam (a traditional Bharatanatyam repertoire with pieces that follow in a specific order of complexity and grammar.) format .
The whole story of Krishna was therefore told through clear
narratives with the pieces Alarippu,
Kauthvam, Jatheeswaram, Geetham, Keerthanam, Varnam, Padam , Javali and Thillana.
Being involved in the show, I knew exactly what was going to happen on stage at every point of the show. But despite that, I found myself engrossed in it and often clenching my fist in tension be it when Kamsa wreaked havoc on stage or when the princess Draupadi, was dragged by hair onto the court! Without any ounce of bias, I can honestly say that there were some sterling performances that evening. Here, I merely intend to comment on the caliber of the artists and what impressed me the most in these performances.
Sapna Shankar the founder of Kala Arpan is a seasoned
performer and any introduction to her or her dance will merely be inadequate.
As the torch bearer of the Bharatanatyam movement in Oxford and an established
name amongst the Bharatanatyam dancers in UK, I did expect nothing less from
her on stage. Donning multiple character roles, she effortlessly transformed
herself from the blood thirsty King Kamsa to the doting Mother Yashoda and then
to a beautiful Gopi of Vrindavan before swapping back into the devious and evil
mastermind Shakuni. And finally Sapna enthralled in the form of Krishna who
reveals his magnanimous form of Maha Vishnu!
Sapna’s portrayal of each role was defined and there was a
lot of clarity of thought in her ‘Abhinaya’
(expressive element of Bharatanatyam). As Kamsa she brought a fuming fury to the character
and her portrayal of Yashoda was gentle and delicate. As a Gopi she fits in
easily as a beautiful damsel enthralled by Krishna and in the final scene she
takes one’s breath away emerging as Maha-Vishnu.
However her role as Shakuni , was the winning one for me. The smiling villain of Mahabharata, Shakuni
is perhaps one of those roles that require a thorough interpretation and on
stage you could see Sapna bringing the conniving sorcerer to life with
calculated pauses and punctuated glances. From start to finish Sapna stole the show and
it was an honor to watch a dancer who was in complete surrender to her art!
There was another
moment when Sapna portrayed Yashoda with Himani, her daughter as young Krishna
and I wished I could capture it in a crystal ball. In that moment, Yashoda looks into Krishna’s eyes , her whole
being beaming with pride. This was a priceless! I wished Sapna’s Gurus the
Dhananjayans were there to witness that moment. They would have felt incredibly
proud too!
One of the main worries, I had when I was convalescing in
bed the day before, was who would play the opening role of Devaki; there was
simply a lot to learn in a short space of time for that person. As the music
began in the opening scene, I looked up to the left of the audience where I
know Devaki was to enter from. My heart was pounding heavily in anxiety. But
then I heard the sound s of ankle bells and looked up again and saw Meena Anand
emerge dressed as the princess of Mathura, Devaki and instantly I felt a sense
of calm overcome me.
A powerful dancer, she further impressed with her fluid and
clear execution of steps and neat lines in Jathiswaram,
the Kaliya dance (keerthanam) and Varnam .Meena was also a vision to watch
as Radha, the one true love of Krishna. There was such lightness in the way she
portrayed Radha and she shared great timing with her fellow performers
especially the Krishna.
Coming to Krishna, we had a few people playing the role of
Krishna in this production. Let me start from the tiniest of them- Isobel. All
of 5 years old; this little Krishna stole everyone’s hearts. As she appeared on
stage, I heard the audience gasp in adoration at this little one with a mischievous
grin.
The child Krishna was played by Himani Shankar. This was
Himani’s first performance in an all Bharatanatyam production and I was beaming
with pride to see this young performer portray the mischief of the young
Krishna. Naturally expressive, Himani
was convincing as the young Krishna and she was supported well by the very
expressive Dhanya Barani and Rithika Raj. I sensed that the audience thoroughly
enjoyed the interactions of these three performers and the playful episodes of
the young Krishna. Himani, Dhanya and Rithika all displayed excellent stage
management and sense of timing, especially given they were dancing to live
music.
The boyhood Krishna was played by my good friend Aarthi
Jagannath. Before going into Aarthi’s Krishna, there is something you should
know about Aarthi as a Bharatanatyam dancer. A disciple of Alarmel Valli and
Nirmala Ramachandran, doyens of the Pandanallur style of Bharatanatyam, Aarthi
is well known in the dance circuits of Oxford for her no compromise and precise
dancing style with the most perfect ‘araimandi’ (the deep plié position of
Bharatanatyam).
An energizing
performer, with a riveting sense of music, Aarthi has a great understanding
when it comes to both the technique of Bharathanatyam and the musicality of it.
When she burst onto the stage as a young lad Krishna,
wearing the traditional yellow kachcham (the
stylized trousers often in yellow worn by Krishna characters) and adorning a
peacock feather on the hair, the unsuspecting audience watched with
intrigue. Aarthi totally rocked the
young boy look and this was accentuated by her swift, agile dancing and her
mischievous expressions! She was well
supported by other student performers in the
Pandattam which was a great piece to watch with light footwork, playful choreography
befitting the scene.
However in the Kalinga Narthana, we got to glimpse Aarthi’s trademark
high energy, no compromise technique, as the young Krishna dueling Kaliya , the
poisonous snake. Aarthi lent a lot of intensity and drama to this episode as
she executed each leap, each adavu (step)
with purpose and power.
The adolescent Krishna was played by the guest dancer Shyam
Patel . An effortless dancer, Shyam is a noted dancer and a disciple of the
decorated Guru Pushkala Gopal. One of the main things that struck me when I
first met Shyam, was his passion for dance. And this came across amply in his
performance as the adolescent Krishna who was the heart throb of Vrindavan. The
center piece of a Margam repertoire is Varnam.
The Varnam performed by Kala Arpan in this production was conceived and
choreographed by Shyam and it was one of the best pieces in the whole show.
Shyam exuded charm as the Krishna who loved to play pranks
with Radha and the Gopis of Vrindavan. Besides looking the part, Shyam
portrayed the Krishna with a lot of honesty, poise and panache. In the Padam (Rusli- radha) where Radha and
Krishna are seen to be upset with each other, Shyam displayed a fascinating
range of Abhinaya (expressions) and he had a good chemistry with his co
performer Meena Anand in the duet parts of the Varnam and Padam. If I am not
mistaken, I was watching one of the most promising stars of Bharatanatyam; a
force to be reckoned with in the future!
Another artist, who really shone brightly on stage, was
Shahila Gokul. She was one of the guest dancers performing with Kala Arpan for
the very first time. Shahila played the roles of Vasudeva (Krishna’s father), a
mother of a young Gopi, one among Krishna’s Gopis and Yudhistira.
Every time Shahila appeared on stage, like mine, the
audience’s eyes too kept getting locked on her.
A stunning performer with clear and precise lines, neat
finishing, Shahila’s dancing was flawless.
She comes from a strong background of Kalakshetra tradition (a pioneer
and much revered school of Bharatanatyam) and this was evident in the dancing.
She effortlessly delivered a calm and caring Vasudeva and a
regal Yudhistira in the climax. However her brief yet starring role for me was
a mother of the young Gopi who the young Krishna (played by Aarthi) playfully
elopes with. Shahila portrays this brief role with such dignified grace that
despite the brevity of this role, it was noted by all. Like me, the audience too watched this
beautiful dancer with unblinking eyes.
The strength of any good production are the supporting
dancers who holds the whole production together. In this matter Kala Arpan is
blessed! Even with one performer down and with all the choreography to be
reworked in a matter of less than 24 hours, the supporting ensemble dancers
comprising of students and guest dancers stayed together and performed like a
dream.
Priya Joyce Rajan (Draupadi
, Kaliya and a Young girl who Krishna playfully elopes with) , Anitha Nair(Nakula and chief aide to Yashoda) , Uma
Nallathambi(Kaliya and a Gopi) ,Sanjana
Ramamoorthy (Arjuna and Gopi),
Kavitha Pillai (Gopi who was pranked by
Krishna and Raas leela gopi), Annie Baby(Gopi who was pranked by krishna and Raas leela gopi), Aparna
Nallathambi(Kaliya and a Gopi), ,
Aquila Malvankar (Poothana and Sahadeva)
(senior students of Kala Arpan) and Aneeka Bartlett (performing in Mallari and Thillana) (guest performer) formed an incredible team to bring this
production to life.
And while we are on the subject of ‘magic’ I want to
congratulate the talented musicians from OICAS who played live for the show.
The vocals were by Krishnaprasad was soul-stirring and his
singing were visibly moving the dancers and transforming them into their
characters. I spoke to a few members in the audience after the performance who couldn’t
stop raving about his divine rendering of ‘Swagatham
Krishna’ and the couplet’ Omana
Thingal Kidavo’.
Supporting Krishna on flute was Praveen Prathapan, a young
flute maestro, who enchanted the audience and cast alike with his scintillating
melodies on the flute. Improvising on stage, Praveen often played some magical
interludes on flute and without Praveen; I can honestly say Maayan wouldn’t have
been possible!
Another young musician without whose contribution, Maayan
would not have been possible is Janan, the percussionist (drummer). Bharathanatyam
is simply not possible without percussion and Janan definitely kept the music
in rhythm with his powerful accompaniment on the Tabla and he played
relentlessly for more than 3 hours!
The violinist Krithi lent drama to the performance with her
proficiency on the strings. Krithi’s humorous rendering of ‘screechy’ notes in
an episode where a Gopi sings badly, sent ripples of laughter through the audience
and kept tickling them for a long time since the scene!
And finally Vibha Ratnam on Nattvangam (a pivotal instrument
in Bharatanatyam, used to guide the dancers on rhythm and meter of the music)
held it all together and kept both the musicians and dancers in line!
I wonder if you are wondering if this was unbiased…considering
I have only raved about the performances .
So was it a flawless performance? No it was not flawless.
There are things Kala Arpan will definitely take away from this show to
improve. Like at times, the stage seemed small for the number of performers on
stage. The lighting could be improved, to add that extra dimension to the scene
and the likes.
Monday 31 March 2014
Another spring morning...
Another spring morning...
Yet another lovely March day
The air smelling finally of sweet blossoms
The gossiping birds stirring the calmth
The unsettled mist wander around aimlessly.
While the earth lets out a heaving sigh, now and again
Just another spring morning...
My raw wounds come alive
I am reminded of the many years spent without you
I am reminded of the shadow play of death
The wreckage it left..
The deliberate attempts to strike a deal with death
The ruins, the void that we became after you left so suddenly.
I see the sun rise a bit more on the east
I see the spring blossoms spread around, looking ethereal,
In a cloud of mystical fog, the promise of new life
Their shadows fall like the veins of life
On the graves of the unknown below
In a parody of nature, life and death
Join palms and offer a silent prayer.
Yes, it is yet another spring morning
Where life carries on with it's routine abandon
I am hurt when I think of the years without you
The years of being broken and lost.
Of stumbling and falling in the dark
Of not knowing if the midnight will ever end
If the morning will ever come.
Then just as I was about to reel in my grief
And go into that dark place in my soul
The warm haze of sun hit my eyes
And I feel the warmth of your gaze
I feel your palms on my temple
Caressing my worries away.
The gentle flutter of the spring blossoms in the morning breeze
And I feel, I hear your gentle whisper.
Yes another March morning...
Let the sun rise , let it trace the sky and drown in the ocean like everyday
I don't feel that time should stop any more
And that I am far from you.
I know you are here, I know you live on
As the voice of my soul
As the wind in my wings
As the strength of my being.
Yet another spring morning...
Let it blossom!
Thursday 13 March 2014
In the wing of a prayer
‘God knows
what happened to MH 370’ a few people said on Monday at work, in a spreading
sense of shock. Today that is frighteningly laced with a sense of impending
tragedy and translates as ‘I hope God knows what happened to MH 370 at least’.
Mysterious
happenings always make headlines, but I hope for no reason such headlines
repeat. For a global citizen, air travel is routine, nothing more.
You check
in, fly, check out. Simple as that.
On those
long haul flights we lean back and stare at the route map from the comforts of
our padded recline-able seats.
Flying
over the Atlantic, the Pacific, the Indian Ocean…Canada, China, Turkey, Oman,
Afghanistan, France…
It is all routine.
To think
the people aboard the MH 370 must have done the same, sends a shiver down my
spine.
No one in
their wildest dreams might think that there is a remote , no matter however
remote, but a remote possibility that your mighty Boeing bird can just
disappear off the face of the earth in a matter of minutes. Without a trace.
Without a trail. Without a sound.
Global
panic sets in. Countries pool in resources and do their best (allegedly) to
find wreckage, a trace. Conspiracy theories spread rife all over the web.
Endless permutations and combinations of speculative explanations are
circulated. And after nearly a week still nothing.
The loved
ones of the people aboard MH 370 have no option but to wait. Wait for what? It
seems now they just wait for bad news or far worse no news.
Detaching ourselves for a minute from
the emotional element here, let us evaluate. A big plane , on flight mid-air
can logically only come down. If it comes down, it will land somewhere. If it
lands somewhere we claim to have the technology and resources, the brawn and
the brain to track it but yet it has not been found. Why? Simple questions with
seemingly no answers.
And that
is the mystery. The fact that families claim the phones of the passengers
aboard has been ringing when they tried yet no answer, if true, suggests a
catastrophe or a mass behaviour (the most hopeful scenario!). And this deepens the mystery.
Either way the loved ones wait for
news, some news. And I hope from the depths of my heart they do get some news.
I hope we all get some news about MH 370. I hope we are told MH 370 didn’t just
vanish off the face of the earth ina split second for no apparent reason. I
hope they will find evidence to explain what exactly happened to this aircraft.
I hope to hear good news that the flight has been found with all aboard intact
and alive. But if not that I hope there is some news, for the sake of the loved
ones; so that the rest of their lives is not an endless wait for someone to
return.
It is
human nature I guess. We fear the unexplainable. We don’t like ambiguity. We
fear we cannot figure everything out. We fear we may never know.
So be it.
I am
going to hold onto my prayers, to know, for MH 370 and for the loved ones of
all aboard.
The glimpse
I wonder..
Between existence and
non-existence; beyond death; if there is a place. A balcony of sorts in heaven. From where the departed watches us and continues to be with us.
I wonder if that is the safest place. Suspended in eternity, still, warm and light.
They continue to watch over us.
Perched on the wing of a silent, transient prayer
I close my eyes and look around
And there you are…
Towering over the frozen mindscape –
Made of precious memories from the past
Here yesterdays merge with tomorrows
To create today, this moment ....the ‘now’.
Where nothing ever will
Where the margins of time fades
And converge into a single moment in time
Balloons from our childhood joyfully suspended mid air
Like they have always been...
Books stacked neatly where you always liked them
Your glasses rested on the desk on top of today’s newspaper.
And there you are...
Watching the three of us pensively...
Go about our busy lives...
Laughing, crying, screaming, sobbing ...
We go about gathering the pieces of our lives.
And there you are...
Smiling that way with that glint in your eye...
Looking at each one of us warmly
Your gaze and watch enveloping each of us...
Like a shield...like an armour…
Like you always did
You watch us smiling that smile of yours...with that glint in your eye
Here you are..
Today...here...now.
You are here...with us
Like you have always been
Watching us...guiding us...guarding us...
In this moment’s journey between breath to breath...
Nothing has changed...and nothing ever will.
Nothing ever will.
Thursday 6 March 2014
They make me cry...
I
open my eyes to this world everyday, thinking today may be it will be better. I
look at the sky everyday, thinking perhaps, today the sun might come out. I
open my windows to the street outside...thinking maybe today; the child across
the street will sleep peacefully, without being beaten up.
Perhaps today, people won’t need reasons to hug each other and when they won’t
need an occasion to smile. Today there will be no more accidents, no more angry
displays of nature...no storm, no earth quake, no blasts...anywhere in the world.
And if I am lucky, perhaps even, the child across the street might smile at me and I may just stand there watching him fall asleep cradled in the silent arms of the night.
Perhaps, tonight I will go to bed without a single thought in mind and would sleep through, uninterrupted by dreams or nightmares. Floating atop the peace inside me...drifting from one world to another. In perfect silence.
Alas, but this is only a dream! Just a dream and nothing more...
As it is now, the world makes me cry a river inside me …every day.
It is pain- its unbearable pain. I, like many of us, choke on it every day and die a millions deaths every day! I wonder why people are scared to smile; I wonder why there is no respect. I wonder why they are unkind to our planet...I wonder why there is so much bitterness.
Everyday millions of children are born here, with closed eyes and folded palms; with only one dream in their minds; a dream no different to mine...
A dream without wings.
A dream...that will be dead and gone as soon as they open their eyes.
The starving children homeless and tortured. The killings, sufferings and bloodshed. The screams of abuse at one another. The mad noise of screaming urban life; the treeless rainforests, waterless riverbeds and lifeless toxic oceans. The struggle for pointless power and wealth and the torture in God’s name and a planet that is slowly wasting into oblivion ...where are we ?
Tuesday 25 February 2014
An old friend
One of the greatest anomalies of life is that sometimes, certain people appear in your life from nowhere and then dissappear equally into oblivion.And often these people steer the direction of your life without realising it for themselves.
And for vagabonds it is just the norm of life. You meet new people everyday, you make memories that last forever but then you part ways like no big deal with a cow boy walk into the sunset.
But thanks to social networking, you can look up anyone now and re connect. As they say old faces, old memories all ...just a click away!
I recently got back in touch with a childhood friend and I recoiled into a rather nice space and time of my childhood.
Memories are strange things, you never know when they might walk into your life. Without showing the courtesy to knock- The audacity of the uninvited guest I suppose! I have found myself in the oddest of moments opening doors to the dark grim strger with a leaking bag of rags in his shoulder smelling of a familiar scent from the past. And I have asked who are you like umpteen times, but with no respect the stranger just pushes me aside and enters like he owns the place…no introduction, no explanations- what can I say, but the audacity speaks for itself again.
The other day I was fretting at my desk to meet a deadline,
and without a warning, without a sign, in came the stranger again! And this
time the scent was that of a five rupee note…
Long back, and I mean, long back, when I was in my primary school in Punjab, I had stumbled upon this five rupee note on the floor on our way home from school. One must remember this was an era when after school street snacking was a big NO-NO at home, when pocket money as rationed.
Coming back to the note, it was slightly wet and the green
of the note was almost deepened by the rain and Mr Gandhi tilted his head and
grinned at me through his glasses. My first impulse was to tell my friends who
enticed me to the corner snack shop , that I was going to buy them all
‘Kachalu’ – which was semi cooked potato dipped in a spicy tangy sauce (might not sound much but man o' man nothing like it on a summer evening...) At the time, to me Kachalu
was the best food in the world, simply due to the ‘No Street Snack’ policy of
parents.
I looked at the note again, tattered and wet, it wreaked a
strange scent. On the little white portion by Mr Smiling Gandhi was a faint
scribbling in blue ink , smudged all over. It read- Vicky Loves Reeta…;-) !Amused, at the prospect of trading this epic monument of
love for Kachalu I began walking to the shop with my friends. As we were about
to cross I saw my classmate Swetha, crying her eyes out outside the gates. We rushed to
her and enquired. As luck would have it, it turned out she had lost all her
money and had nothing left for the rickshaw…
Now I clenched my newly found five rupee note inside my palm
so tight that , I almost suffocated our Baapuji! Patting her shoulder I was
saying ok, hoping that someone would offer her the money and wouldn’t put me in
the awkward position of having to part with mine. But as luck would have it
again, my best friend Anoop (the Messiah of people in Distress :-)) steps in as and
says,” I have an idea…Shwetha, you are so lucky that I am here now, you better
pay me back for this….”All of us looked at Anoop bewildered and in anticipation. Her
fair face, shot to a brilliant red colour and her eyes widened …
Now all eyes turn to me ...some narrowing their eyes judgementally. I looked at
each of them hoping to hear something that would encourage me to keep it.
Everyone else seemed to have been cursed into icy stone by Anoop who stood
there playing with ponytails , looking at me in a tone of 'Come on, you heard
me! Give it to her or I will throw you in the drain and break your bones!!’
I turned away and started to walk home with a smile on my
face. Behind me, I could hear Anoop say to Shwetha’ Yaar, see I told you na! Now
you owe me a treat, come on you only need 2 Rs to go home….with the rest you
can treat me to Kachalu’.
Now with the enterprising nature that Anoop had since then,I would have surely expected her to claw her way up the corporate ladder and be a CEO by now.But I found her after nearly 20 years and she is a doctor by profession and a lovely mother to twin children. She has grown into a beautiful human being and continues helping people in distress and pain just like good old days.
I wonder if she still thinks of the kachalu stalls.
And me well...I am alright too.
Bappuji still smiles back at me from the Indian rupee notes and then I end up giving it to people.
And for vagabonds it is just the norm of life. You meet new people everyday, you make memories that last forever but then you part ways like no big deal with a cow boy walk into the sunset.
But thanks to social networking, you can look up anyone now and re connect. As they say old faces, old memories all ...just a click away!
I recently got back in touch with a childhood friend and I recoiled into a rather nice space and time of my childhood.
Memories are strange things, you never know when they might walk into your life. Without showing the courtesy to knock- The audacity of the uninvited guest I suppose! I have found myself in the oddest of moments opening doors to the dark grim strger with a leaking bag of rags in his shoulder smelling of a familiar scent from the past. And I have asked who are you like umpteen times, but with no respect the stranger just pushes me aside and enters like he owns the place…no introduction, no explanations- what can I say, but the audacity speaks for itself again.
Long back, and I mean, long back, when I was in my primary school in Punjab, I had stumbled upon this five rupee note on the floor on our way home from school. One must remember this was an era when after school street snacking was a big NO-NO at home, when pocket money as rationed.
She said " Anju has just found
lost five rupee note and we were about to get Kachalu….but clearly since
your ‘Situation’ is more urgent, Anju please give it to her…."
The thought was enough to scare the living daylights out of
me..I was a tiny fragile little thing and Anoop was a strong ‘hatti-ghatti’
Punjabi lass with strong arms , a strong grip and a mind that doesn’t think
twice!
I opened my palm and looked at the note again. Bappu was
still grinning at me from behind his glasses. I stared at him for a while.
Slowly, the ‘Rupees 5 ‘was fading away and all I could see was a brighter
bigger Bappu. Something about his expression told me to do the 'right thing'. I looked up at Shwetha, smiled and handed over the note to
her. She smiled, her face wet with tears and said Thank you. And that made my day!
Now with the enterprising nature that Anoop had since then,I would have surely expected her to claw her way up the corporate ladder and be a CEO by now.But I found her after nearly 20 years and she is a doctor by profession and a lovely mother to twin children. She has grown into a beautiful human being and continues helping people in distress and pain just like good old days.
I wonder if she still thinks of the kachalu stalls.
And me well...I am alright too.
Bappuji still smiles back at me from the Indian rupee notes and then I end up giving it to people.
Labels:
Childhood,
Friends,
Growing up,
Gurdaspur,
India,
Memories,
Nostalgia,
Punjab,
School life,
Social Networking
Location:
Oxford, UK
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)