May 1990. A (thats the name of our main character) was 9 years old. A was spending the summer vacation at Indore, A’s native place. Everyone at the house usually slept during the afternoon after late lunches but A disliked that idea – because (1) it ruined A’s evenings and (2) A wondered why people would waste daytime sleeping. Even at the tender age of 9, A had independent (and often rebellious) opinions, isn’t that nice?
Summer is brutal in central India so streets were usually deserted until 17:00, after which cooler breeze started blowing. This particular day, A was extremely bored because even A’s cousins decided to join the adults for siesta. It was no fun playing in water alone or throwing pebbles at raw mangoes or discussing strategies to conquer the world. A decided to venture out, disobeying the orders of the elders.
It was rather difficult to take out the little bike silently, so A sneaked out of the creaking gate on foot. Temperatures were around 40 C and the sun was spewing heat akin to fire from a dragon’s mouth, which A related to the cartoon in yesterday’s नई दुनिया (Nai Duniya – a Hindi newspaper). Tucked in a corner a little distance away was a small store, which in A’s opinion was world’s most wonderful store – it had candy, toys and comic books – what else do humans need?
A was thrilled to enter the store; it was the first time A was going there unaccompanied. A saw the newest edition of चाचा चौधरी (Chacha Chaudhary – a popular Hindi comic book) and A had to have it before anyone else did. It was A different matter that the book was in Hindi and A could not read Hindi properly yet. In Maharashtra, Hindi is taught from grade 5, but since Marathi is taught from grade 2 and Bollywood’s Urdu Hindi cultural imperialism is overpowering, A could understand some stuff in the book. A was anyway more interested in the pictures of fights between Nora, the poison man and Sabu, the giant from Planet Jupiter (चाचा चौधरी और जहरीला इंसान नोरा (Chacha Chowdhari and the poison man Nora – Hindi edition).
A picked up the book and went to the guy at the cashier, who had a big moustache and a pot belly. The guy smiled and said “३ रुपए”(Three rupees) Oh, but A didn’t carry any money! A wanted the book so that A could brag about both – buying a book and reading the latest issue. The thought of the inability to do so and finding no solution around, A was on the verge of tears. A didn’t know what to do. The world is evil, who invented money?
A tiny voice from somewhere squeaked, “मेरी वाली पढ़ लेना” ([you] can read my copy)
With a jerk, A excitedly turned the neck around before the body could turn – like the kathak dancer. There was another nine-ten year old, dressed in red, and having a typical pre-pubescent tender feminine voice. A caught sight of the Chacha Chowdhary book being waived enthusiastically.
“साथ साथ पढते है?” (Shall we read it together?)
“हॉं” (yes) A said
…and suddenly the world was a better place.
The two kids trotted to a park adjacent to the store. The hot wind was burning their soft skins like tender wood in a furnace, but both of them were eager to read the comic book. They found a bench under a tree, but the tree was not leafy, making the bench too hot and uncomfortable. A had this bright idea. Pointing to a shady place under a giant tree A said:
“उधर चल” (lets go there) (Not A Hindi speaker, and on top of that A Mumbaikar. do you expect correct Hindi?)
“क्या हम जमीन पर बैठेंगे?” (do you want us to sit on the ground?)
A didn’t understand that long sentence. So A simply ran to that place, cleared the dry leaves with little feet and gestured an invitation (I think A loved nature and outdoors since childhood).
In the blistering heat of peak Indian summer, two kids, away from home were spending some lovely time together reading their favourite comic book.
After reading the first chapter in which Nora the poison man enters the city and creates terror by killing people, the two kids paused and started talking.
“तेरा नाम क्या है?” (What is your name?) A asked
“X. और तुम्हारा?”
“A”
“कहॉं से हो?”(Where are you from?)
“मुंबई, तु?”(Mumbai, you?)
“….” (it was some place nearby)
After a while, X said, “मुझे चलना होगा ईससे पहले की मॉं चिंता करने लगे। मुझे केवल यह लेना था।” (I have to leave before mother starts worrying. I just had to buy this) pointing at the book.
A was devastated. A didn’t want this to end yet. Time seemed to have stopped and A wanted this moment to go on and on.
“लेकिन बाकी है…” (but there’s some left [to read] – in broken Hindi) A said sadly.
“कोई बात नहीं, तुम रख लो। इंदौर के दोस्त की तरफ से भेंट समझ लेना।”(No worries, you can keep this as a gift from your friend from Indore)
A was speechless… A wanted to take the book, but hesitated to do so. X insisted that A keep it. X grabbed A’s hand, thrust the comic book and was ready to leave.
Almost automatically, A uttered, “फिर कब मिलनेका?” (When do we meet next?)
X thought about it for A while and said – “कल मिलते है, यहीं पर।” (lets meet tomorrow, same place)
“ठीक है।” (alright)
Maybe X was unwilling to leave, but had to. As they were going away, A and X looked at each other and their eyes caught a moment, almost like they show in the movies. Although they had met barely an hour back, there was clearly something special between them, which made no sense. Intuitively, they hugged each other tightly. The hug lasted for a fraction of a second, what A thought was no less than a millennium. A could feel the soft hair and smell the musky body odour of X and this was the best feeling A ever experienced. It was new, and therefore very confusing. What was happening?
X left.
A stood there. Just stood there watching X go away. A wanted to run and catch X and talk to X again, but somehow A’s feet were rooted to the ground. A was choking with emotions, unable to say even a “bye”. Then A returned home, unable to understand what just happened.
What just happened? Was it love? Was X some kind of evil magician who lured young kids like the fairy tale story? A never felt this way before. These feelings were confusing. Really really confusing.
[Everyone at home was already worrying. I am sparing you (readers) of all the details, which should be quite evident]
But A didn’t care. A’s mind was filled with excitement and anticipation of the next day.
The next day:
A got up early morning, much to everyone’s surprise. A was disinterested in playing hide-n-seek or Ludo with cousins. A went to the kitchen thrice to ask when the lunch was going to be ready. A was eager to finish the lunch and go out. A’s mother on the other hand was busy packing. They had a train to board on the same day – Avantika Express.
A, so naïve, told mother that it was very important to go to the store again today afternoon and it was a question of life and death (this probably came from a recent movie A watched).
“आपण उद्या जाउया, आज नको.” (We’ll go tomorrow, not today), A announced.
“अरे पण आपलं reservation आहे ना, आज गेलंच् पाहिजे, परवा पासून शाळा सुरु होणार ना.” (But dear, we have a reservation today and your school starts a day after, remember? We have to leave today.) Mom tried to explain the facts.
“मी नाही येणार, तुच् जा. मला नाही जायचं, मला दुपारी त्या दुकानात जायचय X ला भेटायला.” (I wont go, you can go if you want. I must go to the shop today afternoon to meet X)
Man proposes God disposes. A threw tantrums around the house, cried and screamed loudly, use every possible convincing strategy A’s little brain could think of.
But the fact remained that A had to leave. Summer vacation was over and it was time to go back to own lives. But… why did all of this have to happen today???
It was the end of the world for A, there was just, just no point living further. A cried and cried until A ran out of tears. These elders just don’t understand important things.
So A went back to Mumbai with the book firmly held close to heart.
….And never saw X again.
Today, A is 26 years old. Lots of such X’s appeared and disappeared from A’s life. But this incident was a defining moment in A‘s life – nothing was the same again, and will never be.
- – -
No points for guessing who A is 
Ok, this isn’t about the Bigul (adjacent picture) that is played during army parades, I’m talking about Bagels – the donut shaped bakery products hugely popular in Europe and America.
Until today morning, I hadn’t eaten a bagel (I was a Bagel-virgin). I am generally fascinated by bakery products – cookies, muffins, cakes etc. There was this Bagel shop I passed by every morning and naturally I got attracted to it.
Previous week:
Toronto is usually laid back except for the morning rush hour which is very Mumbai style. So the maximum time I take to zoom past the shop was 3.2 seconds, grossly insufficient to see what was inside. Determined to investigate, last week I paused in front of it just to get a better look
“Hey there, good morning”, yelled the lady behind the counter in a machine-like tone.
“I’m just looking”, I said defensively. (Somehow I feed odd to browse or window shop)
She nodded and I started checking out. The smell was good (I’m talking about the shop, not the lady). There were round bread-like donut type objects of different shapes and colors. I looked at the price – “Single Bagel – $ 0.85.” Was it that cheap? Awesome!
Today morning:
Incidentally I woke up late today and couldn’t afford to eat breakfast. So I went to the shop and asked for a bagel.
“Bagel? Sure, what kind?” the lady said (another one today, this one had a thick Turkish accent)
“Ugh… any kind” I looked around clueless.
She simply stared at me.
“Raisin Cinnamon” I quipped (I am attracted to both).
Then she asked me something that I didn’t understand. I asked her to repeat twice. Finally she went to a toasting machine and pointed at it:
“Bagel Toast or no Toast”
“Aha! Yes Toast please” I was satisfied. She let out a grunt (probably thinking – ‘these, foreigners… can’t they learn anything before coming here?!’)
Then there was this Chinese girl in the subsequent counter. She was saying something which I didn’t understand so I presumed it was for someone else and I conveniently ignored her. After about a minute of shouting and yelling with gestures, I figured out she was indeed talking to me.
“What toppings?” (totally different accent)
I gave her the most puzzled look I ever sported. I thought a bagel was something like a cake or a muffin.
Re-framed.
“umm.. anything…”, I looked around to find an array of meat boxes and some green stuff in a corner, “Anything veggie please” (I had no intent of eating raw meat)
“Ok Lettuce? Tomato? Cucumber? What else?”
“Olives, Pickles, cheese – no not the slices, give me this shredded one” I said. This was getting confusing. What exactly was a bagel? a sandwich?
“And honey-mustard sauce, salt and pepper” I spoke like an expert.
“Here you go” she handed me a neatly wrapped pack
I proceeded to pay, but it was at the other end of the shop attended by a huge African girl.
The receipt read $4.10
“WHAT!!??” That was the scream inside my head. Thankfully I stopped converting everything to Rupees, else I’d have fainted. Externally, I just smiled at her while swearing never to come here again.
“No card, only cash” she said pointing to some obscure note on the counter. (She reminded me of Hidimba)
I paid, grabbed the change and escaped back into the crowd. Phew!
The first thing I did at work was to read what a Bagel was.
Wikipedia says: “A bagel is a bread product traditionally made of yeasted wheat dough in the form of a roughly hand-sized ring which is boiled in water and then baked. The result is a dense, chewy, doughy interior with a browned and sometimes crisp exterior. Bagels are distinct from the similarly shaped doughnuts and from the similarly textured bialys, primarily because of the cooking method amongst other differences.”
You may want to read the the (w)hole story, or bake one yourselves.
PS: This story is so unlike me. I generally don’t do anything unplanned, unresearched.
There is excessive [tag]economic disparity[/tag] in Mumbai. It is a known phenomenon but never did the reality hit me so hard than the other day.
I was traveling in the second class compartment in a crowded [tag]local train[/tag]. Every now and then, a [tag]salesman[/tag] would board the compartment and advertise his wares. These salesmen have innovative strategies to attract the bored commuters’ attention. It’s definitely an art!
A [tag]perfume[/tag] seller got in at Thane and soon the whole compartment was filled with a sweet scent. Automatically people’s curious heads turned and he captured their interest in no time. He started speaking.
महिन्याला दोन हजार कमावता, दहा रुपयाचा परफ्यूम का नाही परवडणार? राजा सारखे जगा, घामाने भिजून कामाला जाण्यात काय अर्थ आहे? हा परफ्यूम वापरा आणि बघा सगळे कसे इंप्रेस होतात ते. तुमचे साहेब केबिन मध्ये बोलवून तुमहाला प्रोमोशन देतील! गारंटी देतो, घेऊन तर बघा.(You are earning Rs. 2000 a month; why cant you afford a perfume for Rs. 10? Live like a king, whats the point in going to work smelling of sweat? Try this perfume and everyone in your office will be impressed. Your boss will call you into his cabin and give you a promotion. Just try, it works.)
He then went about offering free samples to everyone who stretched their hand. Within minutes the guy sold about 15 bottles and happily exited to the next compartment.
What left me stunned was his line ‘You are earning 2000 per month’. How can people survive on such a paltry amount? Initially it was self-denial, ‘nobody earns so low’. But dammit, there ARE people who work in my office doing odd jobs such as cleaning the tables in the cafeteria, or keeping fresh stacks of paper near the printer. These guys earn an annual [tag]income[/tag] less than my monthly [tag]salary[/tag]. And yet they are much better off than the daily wage workers, who not only toil physically all day, but also wonder at the end of the day where their next meal is going to come from.
Yes, there is lot of money in Mumbai, and if you are hardworking and educated, you share the pie. If you are not educated and lack communication skills, the pie is a distant dream. Of course, I’m making this sound as simple as two plus two four, rather than talking about the grim facts. Things are getting increasingly polarized and the economic divide is staggering.
The perfume seller spread fragrance in the train, but thinking of all these things raised a stink.
बाबा..! विमान..!! (Dad, look! a plane!!)
A little girl exclaimed with enthusiasm as she pointed out a tiny airplane to her dad. She was standing at the window next to my seat in the suburban train, watching the plane gliding idly across the sky. The train was moving and the plane was fast disappearing out of her view. She started struggling to catch a last glimpse of the plane thru the corner of the window. It was so silly, and funny, but the little girl was enjoying it. Inadvertently I caught myself doing the same.
Suddenly I realized it, and withdrew myself immediately, lest ‘others’ see me doing what I was doing – watching a plane in the sky. Grown-ups are not supposed to get excited by little objects in the sky. Grown-up’s are supposed to behave like grown ups and watching planes is certainly not a ‘grown-up’ thing to do. These are the rules grown-up’s make for other grown-up’s. What a pity.
I admit, I get excited looking at aircrafts, jets, and other objects flying high in the sky. In fact, I get so excited, that I trace the object until it becomes an infinitely small dot in the sky. My friends think I’m an immature kid, especially the ones who live in the vicinity of the airport.
Children are innocent little beings. They follow their instincts and listen to their heart. As we grow up, we try to do things that are socially acceptable and respectable in the scheme of things we have designed ourselves. This often means restricting ourselves from listening to what our heart says. “Dance like nobody is watching, sing like nobody is listening” is an excellent quote, but it’s easier said than done. I’m not going to preach any more philosophy, but arrive straight to the resolution – Don’t suppress your heart’s voice.
Why should I deny myself the pleasure of doing what I really like? Who really cares about it? The next time I see a plane through the window of my train, I am going to enjoy watching it. I’m going to let my heart act unrestrained.
It was a long time ago. I was young and full of energy. I swam freely in the large ocean body with millions of my brothers. Oh how I remember those wonderful days. I played with the fish and rode on the back of the seahorses. At times I splashed against the shore
or danced in the stormy sea. Life was full of fun until you started shining brightly. You were so strong on us. One by one, I lost many of my dear brothers. They simply evaporated away. I was still grieving and recovering from the shock when you decided it was my turn to go. You pumped heat into me and made me lighter. I felt funny and awful. I was rising up with great speed and everyone was looking at me. They were bidding me good-bye, but I was not sure of what was happening. Suddenly I got ejected out my home, the dear ocean. You are evil. You converted me into a gaseous state and took me away from my people…
I rose into the sky. Higher and higher, until I reached the doors of the heaven. Somehow I felt wonderful again. The memories of my home started fading away. I was enjoying this place now. I met some of my brothers from the ocean, but I also made new friends. Just like me, they had come to the sky; but from places such as rivers and lakes. Every minute we met the new arrivals. I took pride in showing them thru the vastness of the sky. Sometimes we would get together and make shapes in the sky. The human beings used to exclaim, “Look! That cloud looks like a duck”. The next moment we changed the formation and the duck shape disappeared. Those were naughty days. I traveled a lot thanks to uncle wind. He took me places far and wide, in formations of white, gray and black.
Slowly our numbers grew. We started playing hide and seek. Covering you up and then suddenly exposing you! I was bright white and you started turning me dark and black. I was scared and terrified about my fate. I stopped being funny and became serious with my brothers. We gathered together in such large numbers that you were blocked completely. Some of the brothers broke out into a fight. There were grumbling noises and sparks that lit the whole sky. Those were dark days indeed.
I started gaining weight and the old feeling came back. I was undergoing changes inside me again. My brothers were experiencing the same too and were pleading for help. Everything was dark since we had covered you up. The uneasiness and discomfort grew because the space was insufficient to hold us all. Finally, with one swift action, all
of us were released from the gates of the sky. Falling freely, we were gushing down with a sense of urgency. I started recalling my home back in the ocean and my brothers said we are going back home. Everyone was feeling happy again.
Mother Earth welcomed us. She was very hungry and missed all of us. She accepted everyone with open arms. I took a long journey thru the forest, stream and river and finally entered the ocean. Now I’m playing with the seaweeds and watching a ship cruising by.
Home sweet home.
6:40 am: I am late, as usual. I run around the house searching frantically for my socks while mom warns me not to leave without eating. Ugh,.. How much she insists on having breakfast. She knows my appetite well.
After a lot of fuss, I get ready, hastily apply jam to my paratha (kind of an Indian bread) and run out to hoping to reach the bus stop barely in time. I walk at supersonic speed to my target while happily munching the morning snack. This is a daily scene and the regular people around no longer give me crazy looks. Some old lady (stranger) on the street once quipped: चालता चालता खाऊ नको रे … ( “Don’t eat while you are walking”). Yes grandma, I hear ya!
A little puppy follows me. He also runs at as fast as he can to catch up with my brisk walking. Street dogs! What a menace… I murmur to myself. I’m half kilometer away from my home and the pup is still following me. He is running so fast, that his limbs might just fall off! Silly dogs. (I am still eating).
I reach my bus stop and heave a sigh of relief. I can see the bus far away trying to slither like a snake thru the morning bustle of milkmen, paper boys and the commuters. Victory! (I’m almost done eating).
Happily, I stuff the last bit of paratha into my mouth. My mouth is really full now. I look around, … what the hell… The silly puppy is still here! He is looking at me intently. Stop staring at me you crazy dog! But his sight is mutely focused on me. There is a strange kind of sadness in his eyes. They are large, black and sparkling, and piercing straight inside. He is watching me chew the food. Then he licks his mouth.
My heart crashes then and there.
The dog is hungry, and I just finished eating. He was chasing me all this time hoping to get something to eat. He is still looking at me hopefully. Oh dear God, I have nothing to feed him… I’m still in shock, trying to recover. For a moment I’m unable to think or move. Then I start thinking and moving. I buy a pack of Parle G (glucose biscuits) and empty it. The fellow nibbles at one biscuit, and then gladly eats away the whole pack.
There! A satisfied look in those eyes! He is wagging his tail furiously. He looks happy. I feel so happy!!
I’m watching this little creation of God till he finishes his snack and trots away. Meanwhile my bus has already gone.
But who cares! I’m the happiest person on earth today! You made my day!
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