Couple of fun

And to think a married couple can never be happy if they do not have privacy. The tiny li’l space under the staircase right as you walk into my apartment building is home to our building watchman (ranganna) and his wife (renuka). Privacy in their lives is nil, but who says they regret it.

The scene that greets me every single evening as I return home from work is endearing, to say the least. Music strains through their battered old radio, it could be a long forgotten Kannada movie song or a really happening folklore from Yakshaganna, whatever it is, for ranganna and renuka, it is bliss. One rolls out the chappathi, the other heats it. Even as my neighbours and others in the flat walk past them, their conversation never stiffens.

For renuka and ranganna, it is a tiny world, truly. But nonetheless, they are the happiest twosome I’ve ever seen.

One of my articles

She was stumbling up the ramp to the Hall at the St. Agnes Special School, where the World Disabled Persons’ Day celebrations was being held in full swing. The crowd nearly shoving her from behind, this little visually challenged girl moved forward hesitantly. She did not have to worry too long, for the hand of an autistic child quietly reached out to her and confidently led the former up the ramp. Nobody had asked the autistic child to help her blind friend; she did it on her own.

The dictionary defines autism as "a mental condition in which a person is unable to communicate or form relationships with others," but such acts reinforce the belief that these children too have feelings and emotions that perhaps run deeper than those of ordinary human beings.

Mangalore

I've been here for over a week now. Still getting atuned to my first job. Never imagined a newspaper office could be so dead, but with just the four of us, I don't expect much racket either. But some life? Nah!

The auto I took home yesterday made me think of a story. The old driver (allen) claimed his was the first auto to be driven in Mangalore,...way back in 1957.

Yes, apparently, autos existed even then. Altho they looked different I suppose. I went to his modest home, met his wife, and his daughters. They offered me home made fish curry and boiled rice. Salivating, I declined the offer. "I'll be back for that some other day," I said.

Allen began telling me his story of over four decades. He is 73 now and still driving an auto. Why? "I need the money. Besides, this is the only thing I know and I like doing."

Does he earn enough? "Enough to sustain my small home. But i dont need anything more." I later got to know that whenever allen earns a little more, he donates it to his church. He even runs a small aloe vera business. Grows it in his backyard and supplies it for free to those who have minor skin irritations. He says aloe vera is a very health herb. "cures like magic.."

It's time for me to leave. He offers to drop me off, I choose to get dropped nearby. "Bless you, my child" ...that was not just for me; that's how he drops off every passenger of his! Such a far cry from the usual metre haggling.

Phew, looks like life in mangalore is going to teach me more than I expected.

Of idlies and paranthas

Time: around 2 a.m. Place: an unlit compartment of the Karnataka express on its way from Bangalore to New Delhi.

I tossed and turned in my lower side berth and each time the train halted, I craned my neck close to the window to peer out and try and figure out where I was. Bits and pieces of torn, sleepy conversation from the station reached my ears and I reckoned I was still in the South of India.Not for long though. I lay still as I woke up the next morning, and then smiled as it dawned on me where I was. "paepar…engleez, paepaar engleeezz.."

The aroma of hot samosas, ginger tea and what not, wafting in the air made me sit up. "madame, chai peeyenge kya?" a li’l boy asked me from the platform."Ek cup. Yeh kaunsi station hai?""Bhopal," he replied.I love the way everything differs from one state to another in our country. The breakfasts, the chai, the clothes, the looks and even the way the paperboy decides to pronounce his supplies!