Showing posts with label India. Show all posts
Showing posts with label India. Show all posts

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 …

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…."

 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!!’

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! 

 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.
 

Wednesday, 28 March 2012

Salaam Bombay! - Part 1 - Story of an Iced tea robbery.

A couple of years back, a trip to the cinemas, reset me and left me in a pleasant flashback mode. Mr Danny Boyle’s latest masterpiece- Slumdog Millionaire- with it’s clever sepia shots brought  back a lot of sinking memories of my two month stint in one of the busiest, craziest (in a good way!), and intoxicating places in the world- Mumbai…

I am sure a lot has been written, said, painted and even sung about this amazing place! So although I am itching to go on about the vibrancy, the buzz, the people, the colours and the love of this place…I am going to try and control it!

Just a few anecdotal incidents and the reflections (did anyone yawn ;-)!)

First let me introduce ‘the Mumbai power cut’ to you. From those of us from India, it is no big deal but to people from the richer parts of the world I better make it clear. So, it is two hours of no power, and that used to be in the middle of the day and it is so hot that if you spread raw rice on the ground, it would get cooked or even roasted in no time! Life went on, nothing stops- offices went on as usual, traffic remained the same, the street vendors took no notice, the house wives carried on with a hand fan…Mumbai kept flowing- with a chaotic calm!


However, I found the heat rather uncomfortable, perhaps because I knew there was a way out. And as it happened it worked out well for me and my partner (s) in crime...my dearest cousin-meet Miss R- the suave and sophisticated (need I say gorgeous!) modern day Mumbai girl!


It was R who suggested the escape route- trip to ‘The Mall’. A fully air-conditioned shopping centre, complete with a movie theatre and several food joints. Two hours fizzles out into the distance in no time in those Malls!


Having made the excuse of power cuts…we regularly haunted the Café Coffee Day( and I take this opportunity to salute one of the finest coffees I have had!)and drowned our melancholy of being hot and bothered, sipping Cappuchino in the cool air conditioned Café. One of those days, after our regular routine of a coffee, we decided to try the desi Subway in the mall. I was quite excited to in fact be able to have Subway after a long while and we ordered our regular subs, ate, cleaned and ordered our drinks to have on our way home- two iced teas.


A thing about iced tea is that - it is not everyone’s cup of tea!;-) And we found that soon enough, a few minutes later. With our take away transparent cups full of ice tea, we walk out of the Mall. Dazed by the mid-afternoon heat that hit us suddenly, we look for an auto rickshaw to take us back home as we had no intention of ruining the experience of having our ice teas by walking home. After standing for about 10 mins, we manage to hail an auto finally and get in half-baked and fed up with the heat(already!)


In our pursuit of hailing an auto (which by the way is a skill in that part of the world!), we had not noticed a group of street children who had been loitering around us. It is not an unusual sight in Mumbai , as you may know already if you watched Slumdog Millionaire.  There was nothing suspicious about them and when some of them approached me to seek alms, I politely dismissed them with a smile, as I have been told not to encourage begging for alms as the children are employed by the lobby and they don’t get anything out of it.





Every time I do decline though, my hearts sinks and feel bad for the child. I get into the auto with my cousin- I climb in first and sit nearer the window followed by Miss R.. Just as the auto starts up, a boy (one from the group of street children) of perhaps about 5-6 years of age, suddenly flashes near the window. Before I could even see him, or realise his presence, he snatches the cup of ice tea from my hands and runs it across the road into a traffic island with his mates.
Artic freeze made a guest appearance on my face!;-)
Dumbfounded, I made some noise which my cousin interpreted as ‘What the!’
Ice tea was not my concern…the way he did a Mission Impossible across the busy road, with cars screeching down to a halt, made my heart come to my mouth..and all for what – Iced tea!


In the state of shock too we could not help notice the auto driver, who carried on turning the rickshaw around as if nothing happened…detached from this world…the Yogi baba driver!;-)


As he turned the rickshaw around the traffic island, I looked at the little boy who mugged my drink. He took a sip…a moment passed…and he spat it all out with a  vengeance!!!


He could not understand, what had gone wrong! He shouted from the island looking at us…’Ye kaisa Cola he Didi! Aap kyon peeteh ho ye!’-


Translation: ‘What kind of Cola is this sister…why do you drink this disgusting thing?!’


I was amused beyond my wits! Getting mugged by a 6 year old and sympathetic words from the little mugger himself! This happens only in India. Mumbai just got more interesting for me!:-)


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