A little touch of humility and greatness

It was a new locality that I had shifted in and was still discovering the neighbourhood. Walking the dog is a challenge in most crowded cities. I miss living in gated communities that provide enough walking spaces. Here, I was on the main road, so much noise, so much traffic.

As walked by, in one lane, I noticed an elderly, tall man, with a handkerchief tied to his nose, covering the entire face sweeping the footpath. He didn't look like the municipality sweepers, nor was he dressed like one. Every single day, I would see him sweeping. I noticed that whole stretch looked cleaner, neater. The trees in that area were not dusty but clean and shinning, they looked happy. He often collected all the flowers that were shed on the road and made floral patterns or carpets making it heavenly feeling to walk by.  One day out of curiosity, I asked who maintained these green patches and he waived at himself. I took that opportunity to tell him that I liked walking through this patch it felt really nice. That did one thing, he removed his handkerchief and smiled. I noticed the gentleman had kind eyes and smiled with his eyes, As days passed by, we got talking. We sometimes exchanged a few words. I found it intriguing as to why does he sweeps the path regularly when he easily could get the job done by municipal sweepers, who swept the place around him. He said, there was too much of garbage and also he felt it was a great way to bring himself down a bit. He said"not all of it was noble" with a twinkle.  A little humility did better in life. So he started sweeping and that he has been doing it for a whole decade. One day I asked him what he did for living, other  than sweeping and he said he had catering businesses across the city. He also came from a well- to- do family, so was curious to know what the family thought of this morning ritual . He said there were very supportive. I thought that was great, because I am quiet sure this wouldn't have been accepted by most people I know of.
So many people talk about Swatcch Bharat Abhiyaan ..blah blah..and here is a man who is living it every single day for last 10 years.
Here are some of his floral designs on the road and yes, finally I asked his name after about 4 months and it is Kiran Shetty. Kudos to a man who cleans streets, every single day. I am honoured to meet a person who keeps his surrounding clean without any accolades or photo-ops coming his way. I wanted to take his picture too but still haven't got around to asking it. 

Once upon a time- a short fictional story

Maia woke up out of deep sleep as the air hostess tapped her ‘gently’ to straighten the seat. It was landing time. Early hours had made her groggy. The flight was going to halt for full one hour before taking off from Delhi. Oh! how, she hated these stupid connecting flights. For a journey of 4 hours, this was going to take via- via route of 7 hours.  The cabin crew and on ground staff started their regular routine. She decided to stretch her legs. Walked a bit up and down. The crew again asked all passengers to remain seated. Head count once again and they readied themselves for the drill. Maia put on her reading glasses and buried herself in the book.  

Books are great escape on long distant flights. Since she had a window seat, she was left largely undisturbed. A little movement in the row caught her attention and realized a man in 40’s was trying to put his luggage up. Maia thought her breath just stopped, she froze. Not knowing what to do, she quickly hid herself behind the book almost looking out of the window, so that he couldn't see her face. He settled himself in the aisle seat. Maia almost felt that she wasn't breathing and yet her heart was racing wildly and so was her mind..after 25 years, there he was, looking almost the same, a bit older, and a little plumper but yes it was him. She checked him from the corner of her eyes. He looked older but smarter, graying at the temple and also way sharper than what he was earlier.  

So many scenes rushed past in Maia's head. Their chance meeting in college, the 5 years of graduation, their hang-out joints, the movies that watched together, and their bitter miscommunication about another friend. Their fight. She waited for him to make the first move. And he didn't. And neither did she.They never spoke again, she had just upped left for another city for post-grad course, never turning back. In the days of no- emails and no mobiles, it was very easy to lose touch. Life moved on, she had gotten married. Sometimes when she reflected back, she thought about him and wondered where he was and then brushed it away. She had no complaints now, life was good, well-settled, a loving husband, children, career, all was going great. 
  
Maia always thought that she had so many answered questions about their abrupt break-up then but slowly over the years nothing mattered. 25 years was a long time for anything. Maia brought herself back to the present, there was a dull ache in a her heart. She reminded herself that she was happily married and very much in love with her family. 

She continued looking out of the window, the sky was still darkish and cloudy, it seemed it was going to rain. All this while she still hadn't dared to look up and continued to be buried in the books. Debating furiously in her mind , should she say hello, smile or continue to ignore. Then she decided it was foolish to ignore, they were going to be seated next to each other for the next 1 hour or more. She turned towards him and he looked up. His eyes registered the shock. He managed a faint smile. Maia mumbled a weak ‘Hi’. Thankfully there was no one seated in the middle seat. There was an awkward silence. He uncomfortably looked down in his papers, she looked out. The air hostess was the one to break the silence. She gave water and left. Finally, he asked, 'Maia' Oh! his deep baritone, 25 years and it was the same.  It stirred strange feelings in her 

 Why did you leave ?  She replied ‘I thought, you wanted it that way after our fight’.
There was dead silence. After an uncomfortable pause, he said " That was not what I had meant then, I wanted to explain you but you just left without giving us a chance.  I waited for you every single day Maia, hoping that you would reach out and then one day I gave up on you. I just wish you had said a bye before going. I wish you had just talked once". There was so much anguish and pain in his voice. Maia was stunned because all she heard in their figh was that he didn't want her. She never realized how much pain she had caused. Maia reached out to him and with tears in her eyes and said 'sorry for leaving without saying anything''. It was a heart felt apology for never speaking out, for making someone wait endlessly. Ironically, she had also waited for him. They both had just waited for each other... stupid egos.  Maia thought today,  they had completed what was unsaid and there was nothing more left for each other. 
She looked out of the window- the sky was cloudy but not that dark. 

They made polite conversations. Caught up about 25 years of life in bits and pieces. She spoke about her husband, children. He about his family. He had lost his mom and both his sisters were now settled abroad. He didn't mention a wife and though she was curious, she didn't ask. There was that weird feeling of being so close at one point, yet distant now. The vast many years that made them strangers today. As the plane landed, they parted like two long lost friends. Before leaving,  he gave her a hug( more brotherly), a pat on her head and then said bye.  She felt his eyes were moist but then chided herself , it can't be. This time they parted again not exchanging numbers or emails. 
They went separate ways, just like 25 years back, although this time Maia had no unanswered questions in her mind. Maia got out and looked at the sky, it looked clearer like never before and all blue.

My learnings and the NOW me

My Leanings...

Dealing with utmost painful events like a loved ones death, makes you realize how fragile life is and how important it is to live every moment. 

Here are some learnings of my past most gruelling 10 months.

Mantra- Don't resent, don't hate and don't curse anyone. If you do, you are giving them rent free accommodation in your body and an invitation to illnesses. 

Life isn't fair, nobody said it would be, so deal with it.  There is nothing personal in whatever people do to you. Its their and your journey. So drop the baggage. Forgive them without an apology, and move on.

Here is a list that I have derived from the most painful months of dealing with death.

1. There is nothing bigger than Life, if you have one rest all can be dealt with.

     

2. People in your life are not accidental. They are here for a purpose. Some people come in life as blessings and others come as lessons. They both are equally important.

3. Difficult situations remain till the time it teaches you what you are supposed to learn. So surrender to it.

4. Everything that you buy or get here including your precious I, me and myself has to be left behind when you go. 

5. Money is important and it can't buy you everything but you can't be happy without it either. Nevertheless that too becomes inconsequential in due course of time.

6. Watch sunrise everyday...especially when everything is falling around you. It rejuvenates you.

7. Hate is  a big word. Use it carefully.

8. Drinking and smoking are as dangerous to body as mindless shopping and other indulgences are to mind

9. Live beyond yourself. You will see how many lives you can change.

10. The only person you should compete is with yourself. Nobody else matters.

11. Help comes. Should you ever need it, ask for it. You will get it.


12. Life doesn't stop without anyone or for anyone. It continues. 

13. Cherish and nurture your family and friends. I am sure, I did something right in my life that I had such wonderful people who stood by me in the most harrowing phase of my life.

14. Be grateful for everything that you have in life.

Potraj

It was first day of January of 2016. I was at the bus stop to drop a friend off. It was almost 2 pm and there was no sight of the bus. I saw a familiar lashing sound along with the drum beats. I saw a  Potraj mother and child passing by the shops.The child, smeared in turmeric and kumkum, wearing colorful rags was whipping himself. His mother, with another baby on her back, was beating a small dhol.
The child, who was barely 6 or 7 years old came to ask me money after it finished the regular whipping show. I asked him if it hurts and he smiled back saying a big"No". I  have always wondered how whipping with such intensity doesn't hurt and why must one resort to such torture to get alms. India has some strange customs like Devdasi, Potraj which are regressive. I normally wouldn't give money but this time I did. I dug into my bag and gave him a 10 rupee note. The child's face broke into a super lovely smile. He took the note, took to his lips and did a lovely flying kiss with it and that too with such ecstasy that I was completely unprepared for. No beggar ever, ever has done this . Me and my friend, both burst out laughing at his cheeky cuteness.That smile and that gesture stayed with us through the day.

Thank you, child, wherever you are for making my day special. I am grateful to you!



Note: The Potraj are a fast vanishing tribe that hail from the Western state of Maharashtra. They are worshipers of a goddess that is referred to as ‘Kadak Lakshmi’.

The Potraj are nomads who get alms for displaying what must be an extremely grueling profession. The women balance a small platform with their deity perched on their heads and play a drum to a foot-tapping beat while the men dance, twirl and smack themselves with heavy whips made out of woven coir or leather. The whips may weigh in the region of 10 kg (22 lbs) each and are knotted for added measure and land on the backs of these performers with a resounding ‘thwack’. Children are thrust into this profession at a very early age so that they may grow up and be able to bear the crack of the whip on their backs. Young boys may start as early as the age of six with lighter whips till they reach puberty and their teens and graduate to the heavier ones. Apart from the gruelling treks between cities, nights spent exposed to the elements, unrelenting sun above their heads the entire day and the unforgiving rope whip on their backs, the members end up living a hand to mouth existence on what can only be described as meager charity.

Surprise in a musical evening

Sometime, about 3 to 4 months back, while Rajesh was going through his illness period, I had seen a Wah Taj! ad of Pandit Rahul Sharma playing a Kashmiri music piece on Santoor. The music lingered in my mind long after the ad. I tried to search on line but couldn't find it on You tube. In the interim period Rajesh got critical and I forgot all about this.

Last Friday, my friend invited me for a vocal recital by Kishori Amonkar, the Gaan Saraswati of India. I was very thrilled to see her perform live that too at 86 years of her age. I reached late and missed most of the other performers but since I was there only to hear Kishori Tai, it didn't matter. As I was waiting for my friend to get me an access inside at the gate , I could hear the beautiful strains to Santoor floating and filling up the space with magic.

I walked into the open air venue, my heart skipped a beat, there was Pandit Rahul  Sharma playing the Santoor. He was just finishing the last piece that he was playing...and I was shocked. In a daze I settled on the plastic chair. Then as I barely sat down, he asked"Kashmir ki dhun sunoge" my heart just skipped a beat...imagine my delight that next piece he played was the Kashmiri dhun that I was searching.

It was the most soulful and mesmerising tune that made that evening an ethereal experience for me. Music has the powers to reach to the inner most recesses of mind and heal.I sat there spell bound soaking in the night queen flowers aroma filling the winter evening.

Listening to Kishori Tai was of course all together another treat.

Morning walk with Teio

I have to drag myself out of bed whether I like it or not, to walk my dog. There are some days that I just don't feel like it but one has to walk the dog. Walking with a her has its own set of perks, she likes ambling, sniffing and therefore very little scope to walk but has a great opportunity to observe things along the way.
Not only I make new friends but I also discover new shrubs, flowers, mushrooms etc.. Since the builder is still developing the property, I sometimes find things that they have discarded.Once, I found bag full of small pebbles, colored stones. I filled a handful of them in a transparent jar. They really looked lovely.
Sometimes I find small snakes.Sometimes a wounded puppy. A distraught 10th standard municipal school boy who bunked classes. I ended up teaching English and helped him to complete his homework.
I know every tree, every parasite that grows on the tree. One place has three palm trees in succession. If you ever pass this place at 6.30 am, there is so much twittering that is almost like hundreds of birds shouting at one time.
When I pass the temple premises, the light aroma of Parijat flowers, that lies strewn like fallen stars on the ground, waiting to be picked up.
Then there are various shapes of men and women. Some funnily attired. Some unique in their ways. Notable among them are one middle aged man who wears pink track pants. Yes! bubble gum pink. I am always aghast at that sight and also suspect that they definitely must be his wife's.
Then there these few women who gossip about their MIL's or in-laws. They have been walking for so many years and I haven't seen any difference in their weight. Obviously gossiping while walking slows the pace. Then of course, the one super hot woman who sets the pulse rate on fire for all men around. Women hate her. She is a delight and really makes exercising fun for all.

A funeral procession

One of the most poignant moment of life is when you are running to catch up with client meetings or some such urgent stuff and a funeral procession passes by. The sad trail of flowers tell a story of a life that has just ended. They always make me sad, as next moment somebody walks all over it and a few moments later, nobody remembers it.
A funeral procession, in my experience, always halts the madness mind and makes me aware that no matter how urgent all things are, they will end one day. And the same way irrespective of what your position is or however important your errand is.
The other day, I again witnessed my thoughts halting as I watched a procession pass by. But this time I had the opportunity to observe the whole thing from an inside of a car. The car had to slow down and I kind of passed this whole thing in slo mo giving me ample time to observe it closely. I realized a funny side to this otherwise painful departure.  I observed there were various types of people who were in that procession. Leading the whole thing was probably the son who looked visibly distraught , followed by the relatives and followed by friends and then to the end followed by people who you can clearly see, have got dragged into this . If you closely observe the intensity of grief is marked by the placement of the person in the order of the procession. So the people most affected by the death are towards the beginning. And the people to the end are the ones who are reluctantly, show face types, participating in the final journey. One can actually see people talking on cell phones or busy gossiping while the poor soul is on his final journey. I always wonder what the departed must be thinking about this journey. Can that person read the thoughts of the reluctant mourners.I once saw some group of people who were trailing way behind actually joking or laughing on some thing.But then again, why should one mop and cry, life is about moving on.And these guys are just the perfect example of the same.

Have I done this? I am mightly embarrassed to say, yes. The only excuse I have is that I was insensitive and only 10 years old when I did that.

( Note- This is a picture from Net and is a representation of the story not an actual picture. Writer has no claims to the picture)