Smartness or insensitivity?

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.

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.

What went wrong

He was tired, his head hurting, his feet cramping, his heart pumping like never before, but  he decided to settle down and do what he always did - People Watch.

The kid was happy to be selected in the big league. He was all of 11 but had got a chance to play for the under 18 level of the game. He started to believe, he belonged to the bigger stage. In his mind he had seen images of him doing well with vivid details that only reality could challenge. 

The day finally arrived, his father quietly walked with him to the stadium. His turn arrived, he went and recieved a body blow that shattered him between his ears. Asked to head home right away, he limped holding his fathers hand for support, he cringed with pain unaware of what awaited him.

Once he reached home, came the bigger shock, his father ordered for the bag of medicines he had purchased the previous night. As asked for, came the big bag of everything, from a basic bandage to hot and cold packs, from pain killers to  sports sprays, from ointments to stress managing drugs. It is at this point when he felt a pain shattering him just beneath the chest.

The tired man by the sidelines smiled to himself... thinking

Why did the fathers action hurt more than the real pain...?

Was the father wrong by demonstrating his confidence in his son's failiure...?

Or was it the boy's mistake to BELIEVE he belonged to the big league just because he got a chance...?

With questions answared and otherwise, he headed back to where he came from..... the peaceful fool's paradise.

Harshy ka Dabba

Yesterday I did something maybe I shouldn’t have done... stood observing kids as they came out from school after a long day heading towards their sweet little homes. I had a long task-list in mind, but those moments I spent observing them helped me go far away from everything. The energy in their eyes, their innocence so unaware of the gaping hole in their pants, their humble minds that knew nothing while running towards their mom who was waiting outside, wiping the sweat off her forehead after what could already be a long day.

I am sure their day started in sparkling white clothes which was now a shade better than black. I froze there registering the reaction on the face of the mom, her mouth open and a hand almost clasping her head as she saw her world rolling out of its tiny classroom dirty and dishelved like a miner. But who cares about the clothes when the world knows how to run towards their mom, arms wide open and a smile that could put the phrase ‘ear to ear’ to shame. 

There was chaos, but there seems to be a pattern so sure about everything. The bags were flung towards the mom who wanted to wipe the face as it wanted to look towards the other friend with a sense of victory for his mother reached there before his friend’s. The indelible sense of achievement writ all over their faces which clearly read – ‘survived another day of school’.

One kid runs out and heads towards the idol touching its feet before caressing the trunk of it, which to me combined respect and playfulness in a subtle yet so profound manner. Two other beautiful girls walked with their hands flung over each-others shoulder talking about ‘what a day it had been’ and as they walked, one girl tripped but the other fell...! The mythical definition of friendship just enacted itself in front of me as I stood there taking mental notes of all the familiar things which looked painfully stale in my memories.

Wish I could have held on to the age when... the flowers near the idols were indeed blessed, a promise meant a world if not more, a waiting mom was worth rushing as if ones life was at stake, a homework not done fed more guilt than anything, a teachers hug stayed in memories forever, a new pencil gave all pride till it had to be sharpened for the first time, Google didn’t have all the answers but mom and dad had, bumping into your school mate in a social gathering made you feel as if you knew more than half the world, a promised visit to the park when kept meant more than a world tour, a colour wrapper placed to be peeping from dad’s pocket brought more smile than a deal worth a million, when friends would listen even when they understood nothing in the gibberish one blurted while crying... hmmm. Even during times when people ask me to ‘grow up’, I wish I could just stay there, right there, where it was ‘the’ day that I lived for.