The father

The father is a doctor and so is the mother.  We live across each other on the same street and the first thing I see in the morning as I have my cup of coffee is the light in their living room - makes me feel happy to see that someone is close by.  

Every morning sees him clean his car and then his daughters scooter and bicycle.  At 6.30 when the younger one steps out, he is ready holding the bicycle for her.

A little later, the first one comes out with her backpack and he is again there pulling it out and waiting in front of the gate .   I seldom hear him say a word but the look on the face and caring in his stance, speak volumes on parenting.  The reassurance that I am ready and looking after you is priceless.

The lessons he is giving in caring will last another generation.

Against this, are the swanky cars and zipping bikes that I see on the road - all driving on the wrong side of the road - a threat to walkers like me who never can tell when they will zoom in out of nowhere.  These too are parents dropping children at school bus stops.  Do they even realise what lessons they are teaching their children ?

Like the milkman, these youngsters are learning that it is alright to break the law and even if you do, there is always an escape.

Stillness

Just be quiet, be still. Look at the trees, the birds, the sky, the beauty, the rich qualities of human existence. Just watch silently and be aware.  Into that silence comes that something which is not measurable, which is not of  time. 

LESSONS FROM A MORNING WALK

My morning walk is my 'me time' - footloose - I wander where I feel like.  Chanting my prayers.  Looking at the day as it begins in its many facets.

Some mornings I really see a group of women arrive with long handled brooms and packets of chips and other stuff.  They sit by the roadside, finish their snacks and throw the wrappers down. With handkerchiefs over their mouths By the time, I return, they have done a pretty good job and left.  But they are soon replaced by more walkers who create work for them - throwing food for stray dogs, munching on something and discarding the wrapper and undoing the work of the cleaning women.

Some mornings I also see that an unseen demolition squad has been at work - pulling down encroachments on the footpath.  The mangled remains of steel and boulders of concrete remain the only reminders of the edifices ( I fine myself thinking of Ozymandias - Nothing beside remains !) .

But just for a little while.

Soon, new structures come up in the same space.

Curious, I asked the milkman who has a store that is part of the encroachment about the break/build cycle.  His reply was classic :

Yes - the govt/municipality come and break our structures.  That is their job.  And then we rebuild - that is our right !

Stunned I asked him about respecting the law - his question, what law ?  It is a question of our right and their duty :)

Attitudes !

The morning newspaper is still a habit that one does not want to give up no matter how much the papers themselves have changed.

Sunday morning I stepped out to find it strewn all over the car parking area of the house.

Monday was slightly better with just the whole papers in two different corners.

This morning I lay in wait to tell the paper boy that he should drop it in the verandah instead of the gate area.

"Bhai, from tomorrow please drop the paper in front of the door in the verandah instead of here in front of the gate.  The wind is blowing it away in all directions"

Guess what the response was ?

If you thought of an 'okay' or 'alright' there was a prompt question - "Doesnt the same wind blow there also ?  Will it not scatter the paper ? "

I am still dumbfounded - is it so difficult to respond politely to a request ? And that a genuine one !!



Whither society ?

A daughter :)

This Marathi poem came to me as a forward - I enjoyed it thoroughly and forwarded it to my daughter.  Prompt came her request for a translation and this morning, I decided to sit down and do it.  In the process, I read,re-read and felt so happy that I had to share it :) 

।।जगावेगळे नाते।।
अशी कशी लेक देवा
माझ्या पोटीं येते
नाव सुद्धा माझ् ती
इथेच ठेऊन जाते।।
पहिला घास देवा ती
माझ्या कडून खाते
माझाच हात धरुन् ती
पहिल पाऊल टाकते।।
मझ्याकडूनच ती
पहिल अक्षर शिकते
तिच्या साठी सुद्धा मी
रात्र रात्र जागते।।
कुशीत माझ्या झोपण्यासाठी
ती गाल फुगवुन बसते
मी आणलेला फ्रॉक घालून
घर भर नाचते।।
अशी कशी लेक देवा
माझ्या पोटी येते
असे कसे वेगळे हे
तिचे माझे नाते।।

एक दिवस अचानक ती
मोठी होऊंन जाते
आई तू दमलिस का ग?
हळूच मला विचरते।।
माझ्या साठी कपडे चप्पल
खाऊ घेऊन येते
नव्या जगातील नविन गोष्टी
मलाच ती शिकवते।।
तिच्या दूर जाण्याने
कातर  मी होते
हळूच हसून मला ती
कुशीत घेऊन बसते।।
कळत नाही मला देवा
असे कसे होते
कधी जागा बदलून ती
माझिच आई होते।। 








 देव म्हणाला ऐक पोरी
  तुझे तिचे नाते
  विश्वाच्या ह्या   सखळीची
   एक कड़ी असते।।
तुझ्या दारी फुलण्यासाठी
हे रोप दिले असते
सावली आणि सुगंधाशी तर
तुझेच नाते असते।।
वाहत्या प्रवाहाला कोणी
मुठित कधी का धरते
मार्ग आहे ज्याचा त्याचा
पुढेच असते जायचे।।
तुझ्या अंगणातली धारा ही
"जीवनदात्री" होते
आणि वाहती राहण्यासाठीच
"गंगा"'सागराला " मिळते।।
.................  वासंती भावे

MY TRANSLATION 

The different relation in the world
 What kind of child is this O God
 She is born of my womb
 but even my name she leaves behind here itself
 and goes away. 
 She eats her first morsel
from my hand
holding my hand
she takes her first step

From me only
she learns the first letter
for her, alone do I
keep awake several nights
to sleep in my lap
she puffs her cheeks and sits
wearing  the frock I have bought
she dances all around the house
What kind of child is this O God
born of my womb




how different are these
relations between me and her. 
One day, all of a sudden
she grows up
Mother, are you tired ?
She asks me gently.
Clothes and slippers for me
and eatables too, she brings for me. 
New stories of the new world
She comes and teaches me!
On her going far awayI tremble and am nervous
smiling gently,
she now takes me into her lap.
I cant understand o god
how did this happen.
when did she change places
and become my mother.?
God said, listen my child
your relations
are, of the universal chain
just one link. 
To blossom at your door step
This sapling was given to you.
With the shade and fragrance atleast
you have a relationship. 

Can someone hold the flowing river
in the palm of one's hand.
Each one has
his own way to go ahead
The little stream from your doorstep
is a life giver
And only to keep flowing
does the Ganga flow into the ocean. 
.................  Vasanti Bhave

 

The Search

In the dark of the night, on a lonely street, a man was frantically looking for something under the dull lamplight.  A passerby asked him what he was looking for.

“My gold ring, that was given to me at my wedding” replied the one searching.

The passerby decided to be helpful  and joined him in the search.  Fifteen minutes of looking at every stone, under every blade of glass to the very edge of the circle formed by the light, yielded no results. The passerby finally gave up and asked the man “Are you sure you dropped it here ?”

“No, no, I dropped it somewhere in those dark bushes but there is no light there to look for it.  So I decided to come and look under this lamplight” replied the man. 

The passerby looked at him in shocked surprise and then just walked off.  

Isnt that how we look for solutions to problems ?  Somebody’s problem, somebody seeking answers and we join in that with much fanfare only to end up frustrated.  

Also, truth is each one’s perception – very similar to the six blind men and the elephant.  To each the elephant was a tree trunk or a fan or something else depending on what he touched. 

As with the elephant,  each of us looks at a problem only, and only,  from our position.  The truth is for the ones seeking it to come to.

Last but not the least, does anyone want advice ?  They only want sympathy and support especially if the writing on the wall says that it themselves that have to make the small change.  

Again and again, I go back to my one thought – problems between a husband and wife – no matter it is one’s own son or daughter, are best left to themselves to sort out .  The moment we give them a shoulder, we become the third angle in the triangle and only create more problems.  

Some day .............

“India is a country that is forever dying but never dies” – V S Naipaul

When I  read this statement for the first time as a fresher out of high school , I was angry with Naipaul.  To me India was home, a special place that gave opportunities to dream, to grow and to achieve.  How dare he call it dying ? 

At 67, on every morning walk, I realize more and more the truth of his statement. 

Every day a new bill board springs up advertising 3 or 4 bhk, ‘luxurious’ apartments – there is a near to completion scheme that promises, a library, a gym, a day care centre, a mini theatre and above all a swimming pool on the 21^st floor. 

While these get built, what of the people who build them ?

Their homes are still four bamboos with a green cloth for roof and another for a wall.  The men and especially, the women, trudge to the nearest open ground with a shrub or tree for shelter with a tin of water.  Like birds in the shower, you see a group of them bathing every morning with water that pours out of a tube tied to a pole or tree top. 

Drinking water comes in dirty cans out of even dirtier drums.  Three bricks and few pieces of wood serve for a fire over which thick, big roties shaped by a woman’s hands cook on the griddle. 

Two hours later, when I drive to work – the scene changes.  There is a little one sleeping in the make shift hammock tied to trees, while others scamper on the sand piles ; a little girl of 8 or 10 with one child on her hip and another holding her finger plays mother to another brood . 

Why can’t the builder or construction company begin work with makeshift homes and toilets for its workers ?  After all, the land is there.  Portable toilets are also available in the country now.  While approving the land acquisition and plan certifications, can’t some regulatory body insist that these builders provide these basic amenities to the people who building such beautiful edifices ?  

Some day, some day …