falling from out of ennui..

Just when you think that life has absolutely no excitement, thrill, adventure and life seems to be endless series of daily drudgery.... something falls from the sky.

Literally, in this case, a four year old child from the sixth floor (American seventh floor).

I was going along with my mom and sis to give the traditional Diwali gift to family friends. Our hired car had only reached the main gate - the entrance to our Apartment complex - when suddenly a woman with frantic gestures stopped us. When mom rolled down her window, the woman told us that a child had fallen from above and she was new to the Society and didn't know who's child it was, so if we could identify him and do something... We rushed out (in semi-disbelief), but could not recognise the child. He had fallen on a parked car and then on to the concrete. He was still alive though unconscious. The gate guards and the ironing lady and other people there were trying to help but there was more panic and a loss of words and actions. None of us really knew what to do except to get him to a hospital quick. Our driver instantly picked up the boy and wanted to take him to the hospital. I told the guards to try the intercom numbers of all the apartments in that line to find out if the child was theirs. In this time, a man came down and took the child from our driver. He turned out to be the father. In panic, we sat in the car to go to the hospital. As we were about to go a woman started banging on the car windows. She turned out to be the mother. They didn't speak Hindi and were guests of one of the Society members, having come here for the same purpose we were heading out - distribution of Diwali gifts.

When we reached the hospital, my mom told my sister to guide them up to the Emergency ward since they probably didn't know the place. My sis said that the child was groaning in the lift but didn't seem to recover consciousness. My sis came back to the car, only to find that our driver had disappeared. We were already running late for our tasks and these events didn't help. The driver was late in reporting to us, then the child fell, then the driver went up to the hospital trying to find out what was going on, and when we were on our way, one of the tyres got punctured!!

It was an eventful day. But more tragic if anything. The Diwali festival is ruined for a family as their child struggles to live. We can only pray for him.

Post Script: I have been late in publishing this post, and on this day I have sad news. The boy succumbed to the injuries he sustained after struggling for 4 days in the ICU. May he rest in peace...

My Kafkaesque Day

It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining. The birds were chirping. Everything was going as usual. I had woken late and had had a good breakfast as I read the newspaper. Suddenly, out of the blue, I get this strange call. Its from someone with a very strong Jat accent. (Jat is the name of a community of people from Haryana (an Indian State) and these people are known for their aggressive we-don't-care-a shit-for anyone-but-ourselves attitude.) This man said he was a Court Official and he was summoning me to the Court. There were accusations levied on me under three sections and I had to appear at Delhi High Court within an hour with an Identity proof and a certain amount of money.

I, of course, thought all this was a joke. I kept repeating to myself, "This is a prank." Sometimes people play a prank on others on live radio. I kept a serious tone, and did not burst into laughter, even though I was on the verge of it.

I asked the guy what exactly was up and he replied suggesting that he was shocked I didn't know anything of this. I demanded whether a written summons was delivered to me, and he mumbled something. I couldn't understand most of what he was saying anyway because he was talking in an accent I run away from. I don't have any friends who speak like that. It is an extremely rude accent and decent human beings do not speak in it. So, I asked him to wait and handed the phone to mom to speak with him. She got very scared. She was trembling, but still she was able to understand him better than me. The man gave a telephone number of some advocate and asked her to speak with about this issue.

We instantly called up my very resourceful uncle. We told him of the call and gave him all the information we had - the name of the advocate, his number, and the number where I got the call from. My uncle asked me whether there was any credit card amount I owed. This was a strange question, as I don't have a credit card; I don't wish to ever in my life own a credit card; and recently I got a call from ICICI bank saying that I had applied for a credit card, they had all my info, and were checking up on the address. It was weird that my uncle made a link with the Court Official's call I got and a credit card bill as I could see no connection whatsoever.

My uncle explained that this type of thing had happened with him over an unpaid credit card bill and that companies forward this to recovery agents who extort the money and their fees from the faulty customers.

The strangest part in all this was that I had never applied for an ICICI credit card but they had my full name, my home phone number and my old address. They were adamant on taking my cellphone number, which I was refusing to give because I had suffered stupid 'frensip' calls to the point where I wanted a new cell number. I had gotten rid of those calls by actually making someone - a male friend - call back the dude and scold him with a Jat accent!!! I kept saying speak to me on this phone. And interestingly, after talking to me, they called up my uncle to get my cellphone number when I refused to give it. My uncle called to tell that he given it and I became furious. There were too many confusing aspects to this:

1. How did ICICI Bank have all my info - name address telephone - when I never applied?
2. How did they have my home number AND my uncle's number?
3. Why were they adamant to have my cell number?
4. How come they used a specific line in the address "near Arya Samaj Temple" - a line I never used in my old address?

My uncle set his men on the task and they found out the business. It was over some Airtel bill. My sister used a postpaid cellphone plan which was in my name. She had recently changed the same number to another plan in her own name. But she had made all the payments and cleared all dues before doing so, as of course, they wouldn't have changed it in the first place if she hadn't. Thus, it was a definite breach of trust on Airtel's part for having forwarded a bill to a recovery agent! We all were very furious. Especially as the bill amount was a measly 230 rupees. My sister never used her phone for that small an amount and we searched all the past bills, there was no bill for that amount. And we were certain that it was Airtel because my uncle had included the line "near Arya Samaj Temple" when he got the connection for me!

In the night when my sis came back home, and we discussed the matter completely, she called up Airtel's customer service and asked them what bill was due and when they said none, she gave them the best calm and serene scolding I have ever heard in my life! How dare they put us into such trouble for something they said didn't exist! We have been loyal Airtel customers. We don't even look elsewhere. Everybody in the family has an Airtel service. My mausaji is Airtel's fourth customer since it first started! I, freaking, owned a phone which had some 1000 rupees on it, which I lost while in Okinawa! And they put us to such trouble over Rs. 230?? Airtel probably does business in multi-billions of rupees and it forwards 230 rupee bills to recovery agents who threaten people! Despicable! Abominable behaviour on Airtel's part! Makes me sick to be an Airtel customer!

Dear Reader, I know my day was not so Kafkaesque even though I term it so. The Trial didn't really happen. I have not been sacrificed without a meaningful death. But something has died. A trust, a belief. I don't know how many countless insults like this happens everyday across the country. But I am certain that if very such a thing happens again, Airtel will be hearing from a Court Official next, when I sue their corporate asses for such a shameful deed on their part!

why does it have to hurt
when we touch the oven,
the heat that warms the stomach
and eases hunger pangs?

uninspired and dry
I still attempt to write
a little line or a tiny word
of nothingness.

There is smell of smoke and a crispness in the air.

The days are getting shorter, but festive energy abounds.

It can mean only one thing - Diwali is here!

Little flames on the cake,
you signify mortality.
But ah! sweet is the anticipation
to blow you out!

the iridescent shell

is shattered

the flawed pearl is lost

The chirping cricket kept me up all night
I tried to shut it up but in vain
Now I am very sleepy

a patch of blue
is all we need
to ease the summer murkiness.

rainbows in the eye
as a teardrop forms
sadness of the lonely

freeze

Imagine such a thing happening at Rajiv Chowk Metro Station...

...anybody game?

nostalgia

when words don't come easily
when every nerve in the body
has been sensitized by pain
when the throat chokes
and the bile increase
when tears don't flow easily
when you gasp for air
and a little deliverance
enter the empty space where memories disappear

blind faith

I was tested today. It was a test in blind faith in another human being... well, actually a family.

I was walking back home from the market this evening. The sun had gone down in a blaze of red and it was dark by the time I reached the road to my apartment complex. Just outside the complex, I saw a man with his wife and the wife holding a baby in her arms. They were looking very lost and as I approached them, something inside me wanted to ask them what was wrong, and if I could help in any way. I held back and didn't ask. But the man spoke up as I passed by, and asked if I could speak Marathi (a regional language of India, primarily spoken in the state called Maharashtra). I said no. Hindi? yes. He said some men ran off with their money and they were stranded in Delhi without food, without shelter. He is a house painter, but obviously could not find work at that time of day. They looked working class, but were not in rags. They were hungry and thirsty and tired, but worst, they were dejected. He expressed his pain at having come to beg like this and asked for money to go back to Maharashtra. He said he would send the money back if I could give an address where to send it.

I was uncomfortable. I thought maybe they needed directions to get somewhere. I would have gladly helped with that. But when it came to money, I get very uncomfortable. Even with beggars, I have mixed feelings. I want to help, but is my loose change actually helping? In India, we are made to distrust beggars from a very young age. Maybe we have so many beggars that those who are in a better financial condition simply create this distrust in order not to succumb to each and every one of them, even those who perhaps in all probability are actually destitute.

Most crucial is the question: Will giving money to a beggar actually propel him/her to work instead of simply begging? Some actually have day jobs at construction sites and beg by night for a few extra rupees. Or set their innumerable children to do the begging at streetlights, markets and tourist spots.

My oldest memory of a beggar is when we were travelling somewhere. I was maybe 4 or 5 yrs old. It was winters. And we were eating. This little boy who was about 4-5 years old too, and had absolutely no clothes on his impoverished body came to us. My mom gave him some of the food we had. He went away, but left behind a string of uncomfortable questions and an unerasable trace in my mind. "Why is he naked, mummy? Why does he ask for food? Where are his parents? Why is he poor? What is poor? Why don't all people have money? How can we remove poverty, mummy?" My mom never had any final and conclusive answers for me. One question always led to another. Even today, do we have any answers? There isn't any answer.

But these people, were just better-dressed beggars, con-men, or actually in real trouble? There is no answer to this question either. It was simply a matter of trusting their word. I offered food. He said someone gave them biscuits. I said I couldn't give them money, I was a student... He asked if there was any other person who could help... I said, ok, wait, I will try.

I came upstairs. quickly filled a small bottle with milk for the baby, and a larger bottle with cold water. put them in a polybag. got out a 100 rupee note from my wallet and went back down. They were still there, waiting for me. The security guard saw it all, as I showed the milk and water and money to the man, said it was all that I could do and left. I didn't give him much time to feel embarrassed at the charity nor did I receive profuse thanks. I walked away still feeling confused, telling myself I did good. I had more than a hundred rupees worth cake and multi-grain bread in my hand when I encountered them. It was a luxury that I would consume without a thought. But for these, a hundred rupees may mean more than anything at this moment. (Rs. 100 is less than $2.50, about 300 yen, it is a small amount in USA or Japan, but most working class Indians don't earn that much in a day.)

I don't know if I did right. I thought, let me trust and have blind faith in their word. I don't know if I did right because it is a human tendency to distrust. But I also feel naive. I am trusting someone I don't know and giving them a big amount of money. (normally one would give Rs. 5 to a beggar, or 10 in some cases). I didn't feel completely happy with what I did. Only because I feel everyone else would tell me I am stupid to have given in. I felt guilty telling my sister, even though she said it was ok. She didn't say I was silly. I don't know why in this case I need approval from others. I never usually do. I listen to my instincts and go with it. Why should I feel that maybe I have been duped? They really did look lost and I wanted to help. So I did. Was it wrong of me to? Is it wrong of me to be having these thoughts?

I console myself that I do not go to temples and offer donations, but have done something that is in a way equivalent to that blind faith. And maybe I have done more good than giving at a temple, if it helps this family. I always become angry at the hordes of people who go to temples and in the name of offerings give away more than they would to a person in need.

There was once a major event when many Hindus all over the city received calls early in the morning, that Ganeshas will drink milk today. The news spread like wildfire. And everyone went to their neighbourhood temples to offer milk to Ganeshji. I cannot count how many litres of milk was sold, and touched to the lips of that stone idol, and wasted by countless people. I refused to go. My friends came to summon me so we could go together, and I said it was bullshit, and that I would rather give the milk to a poor and hungry person. My friends were horrified at my atheism and I didn't care. I was proud to be above these silly mortals. I was proud that my family (mom, dad and sis - i.e. excluding relatives) did not go to feed Ganesh. I always believe in paying it forward - to my peers, to my fellow human beings - not to an unknown and unknowable God. I had an opportunity today to put my belief in action.

If religion is blind faith, then my religion is believing in human beings. There are doubts in this religion as in any other. Doubts that undermine the faith. Faith that has to fight its way.

Question is - have I passed the test of faith?

Rakhi

In this day and age, I find some customs really silly. One of them occurs on the festival day of Raksha Bandhan. Sisters tie a Rakhi on their brother's wrist, do tika, give a dry coconut and the brothers give money/gift and promise to protect them in return... The main good this festival does, is that it gives an opportunity to meet up with family members and relatives. I would usually not bother with the useless ceremony, but I live in family of strong beliefs and so I cannot hurt their feelings.

I don't have any real brother of my own, but I have 4 cousins - 2 born to my dad's younger brother, and 2 born to my mom's 2 brothers. There is also the little boy of a family we met in Mauritius and are close to. They share our ancestral surname - Agarwal, and thus, felt that we are all one family. Mohit, the boy wanted Didi and I to tie Rakhi on him, so we have been sending Rakhies by post.

This year, only he and my youngest cousin were available. The other 3 were out of Delhi. This youngest cousin, Krishna, is a 5-year old bunch of naughtiness which drives me insane. He never listens and always does the opposite of what you tell him to do. I got toy rakhies for him this year, ie, it was a ribbon with small toys stuck on it. Of course, they were torn out the minute they were tied! When he went to the market with Mamu (my uncle, his dad), we girls had loads of fun racing the cars.

We went to a new part of Delhi to meet the other 'brother'. I hadn't met them in a long time and the kids are so grown up that I felt very old! Ashi was a few months old when I first saw her and played with her! and Mohit was 4-5 years old. Time flies so fast, and meeting them made me realise how long ago it was when I lived in Mauritius.

When coming back home, a really embarrassing thing happened! A guy was sitting on a seat reserved for ladies. I challenged my sister to ask him to vacate the seat. She said, forget it, poor brother, today let him enjoy the seat. And I said, on the other hand, at least on this day, the brothers should be vacating seats for their sisters. And maybe I spoke too loudly, for the guy sitting with his mom stood up shamefaced. I think I blushed a very deep-red because I was just saying in general and the look on his face was as if I had directed my words at him alone!

Later that night, my sister's 'brother' treated us to dinner at the Air Warrior's Club at the Air Force base in Delhi. It was just like entering Camp Schwab in Okinawa for me. Sarthak's dad is in the Indian Air Force, so he has a 'base pass' :) ...good times..

baby jamun

I sowed a Jamun seed about a month ago. And have waited patiently for this day. My mom had given up hope and wanted to use the pot for something else. But I persevered. This morning I woke up and went to see how me plants were doing, and behold...


am feeling like a proud parent.... :)