Glimpses
I love lazing around places(railway stations,book stores...malls)....looking at the passing humanity.I sit with a book sometimes..and lose myself in those pages..or sometimes..just
look around ..searching for my muse!I wonder what left that constant frown on someone's face or
what makes some person's eyes twinkle just so! I like letting my imagination run riot...sometimes I wonder how people would look like if they were roman warriors..so is I spend time imagining every passerby in short red skirts and head gear with feathers ;)
We see so many faces everyday..but some leave their imprint on our memories..sometimes for no reason at all. And I tell myself-
"Dont know which theory is true..whether I am just a manifestation of different chemical reactions or the fruit of God's glorious miracles..whether I am going thru multitudes of life-death cycle..or I will die one day to be eaten by worms..but I am glad that I get to spend these hours..lazing away..weaving stories around interesting faces!"...Here are some faces which left a mark on my memory..some related to trains..some not...but all beautiful!
"naaaaaaaaaaat heeeeeeeeeer!"
Friday evenings are spent on train..looking at the sunset from the window..the outside world merging into a blur of colors..Friday evenings are eagerly awaited for the pleasure of traveling in a train..and for the hope of having hot home made food!. I leave my office an hour early and go to the railway station.
I have a ritual...of my own..After buying the ticket I buy sponge cake from the tea stall in Platform 7 and a hot cup of tea.I just sit there and pretend that I am not part of the hustle-bustle but an observer...sometimes I like what I see...sometimes I don't. I see people excitedly waiting for their train...anxious parents seeing off their children as they leave the security of their nests... I have witnessed people callously pushing each other for a seat..and great entrepreneurship by tea wallahs, ice cream vendors..newspaper boys etc. I spend two hrs like this...and believe me it gives me great pleasure.
Chamundi express which used to start from platform7 starts now from platform6 .So,this particular friday after buying my tickets....I just wanted to confirm the platform number.
So,I just walked upto a group of people(they were people who do odd jobs at the station) and asked them -
" 6 gante express ille baroda?" (Will the six 0' clock train come here?)...
They all looked surprised..(most people do when I address them in kannada)...so one guy with protruding teeth responded-
"naaaaat theeeees station maaadem....next staation...platform6!"
So..I said "sari!"(ok)... and started walking towards my tea stall..and to my surprise he came running after me saying "no..no..madam...naaat heeeeeeeer, naat heeeeeeer" .
For an instance I was irritated that he was trying to talk to me in English when he knew I was a Kannadiga and then something stuck me..Here was a guy who was probably illiterate..and he was trying to blend in with the cosmopolitan environment of this beautiful place we call home.
He wanted to be of help..he was being enterprising and was just practising his English on me.I felt proud for him..and ..smiled at him and said..:"Thanks very much!".
He beamed.
Sleeping child
We have shuttles running from our office every one hour.Everyday evening I finish my gym and I take the 7.15 shuttle and reach home around 8.45-9pm.
I usually read or doze off in the bus and so the traveling time doesnt matter much to me.There is a new cleaner for our bus..and he is young boy..just growing up.
He looks exactly like cleaners are supposed to look..unclean and unkempt. And to own the truth I had never noticed him until that fateful traffic jam.
That evening(doesnt matter which...its usually everyday)...there was a traffic jam on Hosur road. and to cut a long story short..by the time we reached BTM layout it was already 9pm.
I was dozing half the time..and woke up only after we had reached BTM layout.Now this kid had to get up and open the door for the employees at every stop.
He was sitting on his stool...trying very hard not to fall off.He could hardly keep his eyes open. Every stop somebody had to nudge him and wake him up to open the door for them.
He made a picture which was endearing and mortifying at the same time.
Kids that age need to be spoilt with love and affection...and here was a scrap of humanity....working when it should be playing..opening doors for people..when it should be snuggling under covers.
The picture of him....with his neck rolling around...and drooping eyes...made me want to sit and cry for the unfairness of it all.
Instead I got up from my seat and walked to him and nudged him awake to open the door for me.
Nightingale on wheels
He sings love songs....and sings with so much emotion...you want to fall in love just to ascertain that what they say in the song is true. Most people eagerly await for him to make an appearance. He is not Shaan or our soulful Sonu Nigam...he is an old man who sings on trains. And by the way..he is blind.
He sings old kannada songs...and when he sings "oh..binkada singaari"...I am transported to that magical place where someone is singing that song for me..however unsuitable that song is for me;)
He doesn’t beg..but people willingly give him money and talk about how well he sings till the next stop comes. He may not be building hospitals..or flyovers..but for a just a few minutes he gives many people pleasure.
they may not build statues of him in circles..nor will anyone remember his name when he dies....but I for one
will remember that old man..who put so much life into many a kannada love song!
That thing in pink!
I love spending time in book shops..I can easily spend 5-6 hrs browsing through books... enjoying the feel of a
new book..or sniffing old books...I have found love notes..which have outlived their authors hidden between pages of some old book.."thank you" messages...or some very funny quips about what the reader thought of the author's IQ!
Once such evening..as I was reading thru Kaifi Azmi's poems in Landmark and I saw a girl wandering aimlessly.
I inwardly branded her as another gal wasting her time till her boyfriend comes and picks her up...and forgot about her.
After some time..I realized that something pink was hovering around me. When I lifted my head to see what that pink thing was..it was the same gal. She looked as if someone who is trying to make up her mind.
Since I didn’t know how to respond to someone staring irresolutely... I smiled an inquiry at her.
As if a dam exploded within her..she started tell me how she wanted to read but she didn’t know which books to read....how she always wanted to read classics and very naively asked whether I would suggest something for her to read.
I asked her why she picked me of all the people around and she replied in conspiring tones that I looked like someone who knew about books. Now flattery will take one a long way with me...so I enthusiastically told her if it was her first time with classics she should definitely read "Pride and Prejudice”. When I told her it was a love story..she
looked disappointed and told me upfront that she didn’t want to read anything romantic!!! So I lectured her about Austen's books being more of a commentary on the existing social norms..at times whimsical ,at times..satirical..and almost always delightful..she seemed sold out on the idea.
She bought the book in front of my eyes..and thanked me profusely and left looking like someone who had achieved a great deal. Then I remembered...that I had forgotten to ask what her name was.
Some times..when I reach for my copy of pride n prejudice...I wonder whether the girl in pink liked Mr.Darcy...
Lady in Red
It was the day after Rajkumar's death and I was making my escape to Mysore early in the morning.
The tension was almost tangible..something one could put there fingers out and touch. The bus dropped me near K.R Market and I had to walk/run the distance to the railway station. Daily vendors were being chased away by the police. Since many of them were flower vendors...flowers were strewn all over the road....My mind registered that those flowers were
somebody's livelihood...and in the grander scheme of things..it was sad that such beautiful flowers would die being stamped by uncaring feet.
As I ran along the street..I saw a woman in a red saree..It would make more sense to say I saw a woman in red rags. She was pushing a cart of old mangoes and a rusted knife. Her hair was not washed and she looked starved..of food and care.
As I passed her by..I worried for her..how will she manage? If she doesn’t sell any mangoes how will she feed herself? moreover those mangoes didn’t even look edible!
I pushed her out of my mind and concentrated on getting to railway station. Somehow from that day on, whenever I hear "lady in red" she is the one I remember!
look around ..searching for my muse!I wonder what left that constant frown on someone's face or
what makes some person's eyes twinkle just so! I like letting my imagination run riot...sometimes I wonder how people would look like if they were roman warriors..so is I spend time imagining every passerby in short red skirts and head gear with feathers ;)
We see so many faces everyday..but some leave their imprint on our memories..sometimes for no reason at all. And I tell myself-
"Dont know which theory is true..whether I am just a manifestation of different chemical reactions or the fruit of God's glorious miracles..whether I am going thru multitudes of life-death cycle..or I will die one day to be eaten by worms..but I am glad that I get to spend these hours..lazing away..weaving stories around interesting faces!"...Here are some faces which left a mark on my memory..some related to trains..some not...but all beautiful!
"naaaaaaaaaaat heeeeeeeeeer!"
Friday evenings are spent on train..looking at the sunset from the window..the outside world merging into a blur of colors..Friday evenings are eagerly awaited for the pleasure of traveling in a train..and for the hope of having hot home made food!. I leave my office an hour early and go to the railway station.
I have a ritual...of my own..After buying the ticket I buy sponge cake from the tea stall in Platform 7 and a hot cup of tea.I just sit there and pretend that I am not part of the hustle-bustle but an observer...sometimes I like what I see...sometimes I don't. I see people excitedly waiting for their train...anxious parents seeing off their children as they leave the security of their nests... I have witnessed people callously pushing each other for a seat..and great entrepreneurship by tea wallahs, ice cream vendors..newspaper boys etc. I spend two hrs like this...and believe me it gives me great pleasure.
Chamundi express which used to start from platform7 starts now from platform6 .So,this particular friday after buying my tickets....I just wanted to confirm the platform number.
So,I just walked upto a group of people(they were people who do odd jobs at the station) and asked them -
" 6 gante express ille baroda?" (Will the six 0' clock train come here?)...
They all looked surprised..(most people do when I address them in kannada)...so one guy with protruding teeth responded-
"naaaaat theeeees station maaadem....next staation...platform6!"
So..I said "sari!"(ok)... and started walking towards my tea stall..and to my surprise he came running after me saying "no..no..madam...naaat heeeeeeeer, naat heeeeeeer" .
For an instance I was irritated that he was trying to talk to me in English when he knew I was a Kannadiga and then something stuck me..Here was a guy who was probably illiterate..and he was trying to blend in with the cosmopolitan environment of this beautiful place we call home.
He wanted to be of help..he was being enterprising and was just practising his English on me.I felt proud for him..and ..smiled at him and said..:"Thanks very much!".
He beamed.
Sleeping child
We have shuttles running from our office every one hour.Everyday evening I finish my gym and I take the 7.15 shuttle and reach home around 8.45-9pm.
I usually read or doze off in the bus and so the traveling time doesnt matter much to me.There is a new cleaner for our bus..and he is young boy..just growing up.
He looks exactly like cleaners are supposed to look..unclean and unkempt. And to own the truth I had never noticed him until that fateful traffic jam.
That evening(doesnt matter which...its usually everyday)...there was a traffic jam on Hosur road. and to cut a long story short..by the time we reached BTM layout it was already 9pm.
I was dozing half the time..and woke up only after we had reached BTM layout.Now this kid had to get up and open the door for the employees at every stop.
He was sitting on his stool...trying very hard not to fall off.He could hardly keep his eyes open. Every stop somebody had to nudge him and wake him up to open the door for them.
He made a picture which was endearing and mortifying at the same time.
Kids that age need to be spoilt with love and affection...and here was a scrap of humanity....working when it should be playing..opening doors for people..when it should be snuggling under covers.
The picture of him....with his neck rolling around...and drooping eyes...made me want to sit and cry for the unfairness of it all.
Instead I got up from my seat and walked to him and nudged him awake to open the door for me.
Nightingale on wheels
He sings love songs....and sings with so much emotion...you want to fall in love just to ascertain that what they say in the song is true. Most people eagerly await for him to make an appearance. He is not Shaan or our soulful Sonu Nigam...he is an old man who sings on trains. And by the way..he is blind.
He sings old kannada songs...and when he sings "oh..binkada singaari"...I am transported to that magical place where someone is singing that song for me..however unsuitable that song is for me;)
He doesn’t beg..but people willingly give him money and talk about how well he sings till the next stop comes. He may not be building hospitals..or flyovers..but for a just a few minutes he gives many people pleasure.
they may not build statues of him in circles..nor will anyone remember his name when he dies....but I for one
will remember that old man..who put so much life into many a kannada love song!
That thing in pink!
I love spending time in book shops..I can easily spend 5-6 hrs browsing through books... enjoying the feel of a
new book..or sniffing old books...I have found love notes..which have outlived their authors hidden between pages of some old book.."thank you" messages...or some very funny quips about what the reader thought of the author's IQ!
Once such evening..as I was reading thru Kaifi Azmi's poems in Landmark and I saw a girl wandering aimlessly.
I inwardly branded her as another gal wasting her time till her boyfriend comes and picks her up...and forgot about her.
After some time..I realized that something pink was hovering around me. When I lifted my head to see what that pink thing was..it was the same gal. She looked as if someone who is trying to make up her mind.
Since I didn’t know how to respond to someone staring irresolutely... I smiled an inquiry at her.
As if a dam exploded within her..she started tell me how she wanted to read but she didn’t know which books to read....how she always wanted to read classics and very naively asked whether I would suggest something for her to read.
I asked her why she picked me of all the people around and she replied in conspiring tones that I looked like someone who knew about books. Now flattery will take one a long way with me...so I enthusiastically told her if it was her first time with classics she should definitely read "Pride and Prejudice”. When I told her it was a love story..she
looked disappointed and told me upfront that she didn’t want to read anything romantic!!! So I lectured her about Austen's books being more of a commentary on the existing social norms..at times whimsical ,at times..satirical..and almost always delightful..she seemed sold out on the idea.
She bought the book in front of my eyes..and thanked me profusely and left looking like someone who had achieved a great deal. Then I remembered...that I had forgotten to ask what her name was.
Some times..when I reach for my copy of pride n prejudice...I wonder whether the girl in pink liked Mr.Darcy...
Lady in Red
It was the day after Rajkumar's death and I was making my escape to Mysore early in the morning.
The tension was almost tangible..something one could put there fingers out and touch. The bus dropped me near K.R Market and I had to walk/run the distance to the railway station. Daily vendors were being chased away by the police. Since many of them were flower vendors...flowers were strewn all over the road....My mind registered that those flowers were
somebody's livelihood...and in the grander scheme of things..it was sad that such beautiful flowers would die being stamped by uncaring feet.
As I ran along the street..I saw a woman in a red saree..It would make more sense to say I saw a woman in red rags. She was pushing a cart of old mangoes and a rusted knife. Her hair was not washed and she looked starved..of food and care.
As I passed her by..I worried for her..how will she manage? If she doesn’t sell any mangoes how will she feed herself? moreover those mangoes didn’t even look edible!
I pushed her out of my mind and concentrated on getting to railway station. Somehow from that day on, whenever I hear "lady in red" she is the one I remember!
posted by krupa at
10:36 PM
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