Tag Archive | people

GREY

I opened the door and stepped out. It was a cold day and I wanted to have some sun. It feels good to have some sunrays on the shriveling winter skin.

But what do I see. The shoe rack is not as it was. It was at a haphazard angle. The shoes thrown here and there. When did that happen, I thought. Yes, a little while back, I had heard the Ethiopian girl playing in the corridor. And I had heard some noise too at that time. But had not bothered. Simply because that girl was always into some or the other mischief. Well can’t blame her actually.

She lives with her mother and some ‘aunts’.  And these ‘aunts’ keep changing. I have a suspicion that they are not legally staying in Bahrain. Maybe they don’t even own their passports anymore. Illegal immigrants keep on changing houses to escape any probe. I don’t even know what profession they are into. The doorbell ringing at odd hours give me some hints. The others staying in the building avoid them. And so do they. They mingle with their own. No doubt the girl does get bored all alone without any friends.

I look here and there to see if someone is present to sympathise with me. At that time the door opens and the mother steps out.

‘What is all this’, I ask her. There is silence in the whole building and my voice echoes.

‘What’, she asks in her unique accent.

‘Your daughter was playing here some time back, it must be her work. Couldn’t she keep everything back?’, I ask.

She mumbles something.

‘I didn’t understand’, I say.

‘You don’t know English or what’, she yells.

That irritates me. ‘ I know English very well, thank you but your accent I do not understand’, I say and not wishing to hear or say anything I just keep everything back in place and leave for my walk.

Later me and my friend have a talk on Ethiopians in general. ‘Why do you mess with them. Their occupations are not known, you know they have this animal  culture, just avoid them’, she advice.

I do follow her advice.

Some days later I am putting the clothes to dry in the terrace. Something happens and I faint.

Sometimes later I come to consciousness to find myself in the lap of one of the roommates of my neighbour. ‘Are you alright?’, she asks me.

I nod. She makes me sit in the shade while she puts my clothes to dry.

Then she helps me get up. Leads me to my flat. Makes me comfortable and asks if I need anything. I mumble a no. Then she leaves.

Later when she meets my husband, she narrates everything and asks him to take care.

So often we brand people according to their nationality or their work and so often we forget to see our own deficiencies.

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I am taking part in The Write Tribe Festival of Words 8th – 14th December 2013. The prompt for today People

vecchio libro con stilografica

Disclaimer: this post is not intended to hurt any one by their nationality, profession, looks, creed etc. It is just meant to show my own shortcomings.

बदलते वक़्त

कपडे तह कर में अलमारी में रख रही थी की मुझे ठक-ठक की आवाज़ सुनाई टी।

बाजू वाला मकान खाली  था सो मैंने सोचा की शायद नए किरायेदार आये हैं।  पर नहीं, आवाज़ तो  घर के भीतर की थी।

‘बिट्टू , बिट्टू घर आ गए हो क्या?’ मेरे पांच वर्ष के बेटे को मैं खेलने ग्राउंड छोड़ आई थी। पता नहीं वह  घर कब चला आया। आगन में झाँका तो पाया की बिट्टू पत्थर से कुछ ठोक  रहा है। ‘क्या हुआ,  खेल छोड़ क्यूँ चले आये?’, मैंने पुछा।

 

‘सब सायकिल चला रहे हैं, आप कब दिलाओगे मुझे मेरी सायकिल?’, बिट्टू ने कहा।

कई दिनों से बिट्टू सायकिल की जिद लगाये है . आर्थिक तंगी कहिये या समय की व्यस्तता, बिट्टू को सायकिल दिलाना टलते  ही जा रहा था। ‘अरे थोड़े समय के लिए किसीसे मांग लेते।’, मैंने कहा।

कोई नहीं देता ‘, उसने कहा और गुस्से मैं चला गया

 

आजकल कें बच्चों को मिलबांट कर खेलना आता ही नहीं हैं।

 

 

हमारे बाजू  वाले घर में नए किरायेदार आ गए है। मद्रासी हैं, सो मैंने बात नहीं की हैं, अब तक। बात करने का कोई इरादा भी नहीं है. एक तो उन्हें हिंदी नहीं आती होगी और मुझे अंग्रेजी। हमारे खान पान अलग। जब उनका सामान आया  था तो मैंने खिड़की से झाँक कर देखा था। सामान सब काफी बढ़िया हैं, लगता है समृद्ध हैं।   ऐसो से दूरी बनाने में ही समझदारी है.

 

कुछ दिनों बाद मैंने देखा बिट्टू साइकिल चला रहा है। वह जब घर लोटा तो मैंने पूझा ,’ किसने दी तुम्हे साइकिल?’

 

‘राधा ने’

‘कौन राधा?’

‘अरे वही  जो हमारे बाजु में रहती है।’

‘उसका नाम राधा है?’

‘हां और आंटी का नाम है कविता’, इतना कह वह  भाग गया।

 

कविता मुझे आते जाते मिलती हैं, कई बार उसने मुझ से बात करने की भी कोशिश की पर में सिर्फ एक मुस्कान दे वहां से निकल जाती। नए लोगों से बात करने में आजकल डर  लगता हैं, कौन जाने कैसे लोग हों। किसी पर  भरोसा नहीं होता अब। इतनी बार अखबारों में पढा है की पड़ोसियों ने ही घर लूट लिया, रिश्तेदारों ने ही मानहानि की। अच्छा है सब से दूरी बना कर रखे।

 

 

 

बाज़ार से में सामान खरीद कर आ रही थी की मैंने देखा ग्राउंड खाली पड़ा है, बिट्टू बाहर  ही बेठा  होगा सोच मैंने कदम बढा  लिये। देखा तो सब बच्चे कविता के घर जमे हैं . एक ने मुझे आवाज़ लगायी,’ आंटी बिट्टू को चोट लग गयी।’

 

फुटबॉल खेलते वक़्त बिट्टू गिर गया था,  उसके टांग में चोट लगी थी और खून भी बह रहा था। कविता कें पति ने कार निकाली  और हम डॉक्टर के पास गये। मरहम पट्टी हुईं, इंजेक्शन लगी। मेरे पति काम से दुसरे शहर गए हुए थे. आने में अभी और दो चार दिन बाकि थे। उन दो चार दिनों मे  कविता और उसके परिवार ने दोस्ती और अपनत्व का एस परिचय दिखाया की मुझे अपने पूर्व व्यवहार पर शर्म आ रही थी।

 

हम बच्चो से कहते है की मिलजुल कर रहो  पर हम खुद उस बात का अनुसरण क्यों नहीं कर पाते?

*काल्पनिक

Travel Tales III

I was studying in First Year B.Com at Mysore. Dussehra holidays were about to begin and I was very excited. It was the first time I would be visiting Vizag, my brother was working there and it was the first time I would be commanding him to pay my bills 🙂

Since it was the first time I was traveling to Vizag, My father came to accompany me, we went to Vizag had a glorious time. I was fascinated by the beaches of Vizag, the shopping, the food everything.

My father again accompanied me on the return and the whole time he would give me tutorials of which stations were on the way, the local dialect, how to handle people etc because the next time onwards I was supposed to travel alone.

SO it was fun until we reached Bangarpet. Now Bangarpet is the first stop in Karnataka and is about 71 km from Bangalore. We were supposed to board another train to Mysore from Bangalore. But the train remained stationed in Bangarpet. Afer about 2 hours, there was an announcement that because a train had derailed somewhere ahead, so this train would not continue till Bangalore but for the convenience of the passengers some buses were arranged, which would in sometime reach the station.

It was already 9p.m. There was panic, no food or water. Somehow people managed to collect their bags and make a queue.

There was a girl in her 20s who was working in Bangalore coming from Kolkata who had about 12 bags and not a porter in sight. No one came to help her either. We went and stood in queue. My father made me stand there and returned to pick her bags, then I went and brought some bags and so on until all her bags were in the queue.

But when the buses arrived, there was no queue to be seen. People just pushed and shoved to get a seat. We along with the girl finally managed to get seats in the last bus.

We reached Bangalore Railway station around 2.30 a.m and went and sat in the waiting room. We were thirsty and hungry but there was nothing to be had, We managed the night on some peanuts which my father always carries when he travels. The cafeteria opened at 5 a.m after which we had some food and boarded a train to Mysore.

Needless to say I was never allowed to travel alone in that route. Papa always said that what will you do if something like that happens again and nobody comes to help you, the way it happened with the girl.

Are you curious to know about the girl?

Well the girl got down from the bus, as soon as the bus entered Bangalore without even a Bye or a Thank you.

Ingenuity

He came, he saw. The corner ‘garden’ just had two benches to sit upon. And they were already occupied. A family of four occupied one; the parents sat with some bags while the kids played.

The other had a couple sitting in one end. He sat down at another end and started coughing and went on coughing. His face turned a beetroot red, tears spilled from his eyes.

The man sitting next to him asked,’Do you want Strepsils?’

He said, ‘Not of use to me, I have TB.’

In no time the garden emptied to make space for his sweetheart.

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Inspired by  Sorry folks, just could not resist this one 😛