Aapko Hindi aati hai? Family ke saath hoon. Samaan kho gaya hai. Bacche bhookey hein. Kuch help kar deejiye na?
It was the summer of 2003 in Chennai. The indefatigable sun seemed to be belting down rays, drying out every drop of moisture on land. This summer seemed to have extended its stay for a while now. Nobody could resist a sip of anything cool that could trickle slowly down to the tummy creating an experience that was long lost since the day the summer set in.
The summer had finally taken its toll, I was ill. The heat had sapped all I had, leaving me with a body I had to replenish over and over again. The soaring body temperature wasn’t helping me either. My dad asked me to move to his friend’s place for the night after a visit to the doctor.
The distance I had to cover was around 4.5 kilometres, and the green in my wallet gave me a reason to walk the distance. As I slowly trudged on, halting and breathing for some respite, someone approached me.
There was a man, in his mid thirties with a baby in his hand, his wife stood a couple of feet behind with another toddler bundled in her arms. ‘Aapko Hindi aati hai? Family ke saath hoon. Samaan kho gaya hai. Bacche bhookey hein. Kuch help kar deejiye na?’ he said. His eyes looked tired, his wife’s eyes looked expectant of some help. The sun had been bad, but hadn’t been that bad to dry the moisture of humanity. It had to be a mix of ill health, blurred thinking and emotional overtones of being alone that I almost emptied my wallet, hoping he could buy some food and a ticket for his journey back home. As I walked after patting his back, urging him to take care, I felt better – much better. Something good seemed to be flooding my system, I wasn’t trudging any longer. The steps were confident; the narcotic of goodness had stung me.
When I reached my destination and narrated the incident, I looked around and realized all of them smiled with a sense of familiarity to what had happened. There seemed to be a group that did this emotional drama for a living. It took me long to recover. Long.
On my way back home I stop to pick a few things on my way home from work. I get stopped by a person saying "Aapko Hindi aati hai? Family ke saath hoon. Samaan kho gaya hai. Bacche bhookey hein. Kuch help kar deejiye na?"
I see through him and walk-away. I wasn’t feeling great. What if he was indeed in trouble? What if his kids were indeed hungry? Had the sun managed to burn the last drop of moisture in me – I ponder.
It was the summer of 2003 in Chennai. The indefatigable sun seemed to be belting down rays, drying out every drop of moisture on land. This summer seemed to have extended its stay for a while now. Nobody could resist a sip of anything cool that could trickle slowly down to the tummy creating an experience that was long lost since the day the summer set in.
The summer had finally taken its toll, I was ill. The heat had sapped all I had, leaving me with a body I had to replenish over and over again. The soaring body temperature wasn’t helping me either. My dad asked me to move to his friend’s place for the night after a visit to the doctor.
The distance I had to cover was around 4.5 kilometres, and the green in my wallet gave me a reason to walk the distance. As I slowly trudged on, halting and breathing for some respite, someone approached me.
There was a man, in his mid thirties with a baby in his hand, his wife stood a couple of feet behind with another toddler bundled in her arms. ‘Aapko Hindi aati hai? Family ke saath hoon. Samaan kho gaya hai. Bacche bhookey hein. Kuch help kar deejiye na?’ he said. His eyes looked tired, his wife’s eyes looked expectant of some help. The sun had been bad, but hadn’t been that bad to dry the moisture of humanity. It had to be a mix of ill health, blurred thinking and emotional overtones of being alone that I almost emptied my wallet, hoping he could buy some food and a ticket for his journey back home. As I walked after patting his back, urging him to take care, I felt better – much better. Something good seemed to be flooding my system, I wasn’t trudging any longer. The steps were confident; the narcotic of goodness had stung me.
When I reached my destination and narrated the incident, I looked around and realized all of them smiled with a sense of familiarity to what had happened. There seemed to be a group that did this emotional drama for a living. It took me long to recover. Long.
Dec 2013
On my way back home I stop to pick a few things on my way home from work. I get stopped by a person saying "Aapko Hindi aati hai? Family ke saath hoon. Samaan kho gaya hai. Bacche bhookey hein. Kuch help kar deejiye na?"
I see through him and walk-away. I wasn’t feeling great. What if he was indeed in trouble? What if his kids were indeed hungry? Had the sun managed to burn the last drop of moisture in me – I ponder.
