Life is like that – Page 8

EVER THOUGHT WHY – PART I

Sometimes back, on Twitter, I started a new string called ‘Ever Thought Why’. The idea was to marvel at commonplace things and why do they happen the way you do. Here are some:

People who claim to be the most virtuous are often the worst?

Memories that you thought you had buried forever resurrect when you least expect them?

People who bring most happiness to you also hurt you the most?

Clouds make lovely shapes in the sky but these shapes vanish the moment you start to identify them?

It is easier to forgive others but very difficult to forgive yourself?

When buses and trains meet with accidents infants and small children often survive?

Life seems longer at times and shorter at others?

Thoughts that used to make you happy at one time, make you sad now?

You fume, fret and toil to get something but finally you get it without too much of effort?

A stashed away note, poem or story gives more joy on being re-found than when you originally read it?

Scorching sun lasts the whole day but that enchanting sunset over the sea gets over even before you start admiring it?

When you are closest to solving a problem it is exactly the time when the distractions are the most?

People have little time to listen to your problems; but, can talk for hours about their own?

The music of younger generation will always be annoying to the older generation?

Thirty years appear a long time when you look ahead but appear so short when you look back?

Butterflies are so beautiful but they never sit at the same place for any length of time?

When you have Time and Money you no longer have the Inclination?

Some days are longer than others that pass off so quickly?

Those we place on high pedestal often slip to the lowest levels?

Money is never enough!

We easily forget the things we want to remember but find hard to forget those we want to?

Most people prevaricate and come up with exalted theories when faced with the truth and facts?

Green grass rushes in more memories than the best plants and trees?

There is no higher feelig than Love but many a times it also makes you feel at your lowest?

The ‘Possibility’ of a thing occurs to us when we say “It’s not possible”?

When you finally come to the end you discover it is another beginning?

Life’s always talked about as behind us whereas it is what lies ahead; where one is going is more important than where one was.

It takes many things to make a person happy but it takes very little to make him sad?

Things never work unless we make them work?

It is easier to give advice than to follow it?

A towel should ever get dirty?

We resolve not to see another Bollywood movie or to see a Cricket match but we always do?

When one makes up one’s mind never to repeat a mistake one is not given another chance?

We call a person very interesting? Well, simply because he is a good listener?

People are bad when they cannot keep their word; but, when you break a promise it was unreasonable demand to start with?

Love too needs to be nurtured and cannot be left to itself to grow and become stronger?

Tears and rain have the same ingredient but the former is really more precious?

One can be totally alone amongst friends too; conversely, totally crowded by just one person around?

It requires courage to do things right away but cowardice to keep postponing it?

It always starts with a bang but ends with a whimper?

The words “next time” do not quite bring out the sincere intention but sound more as an excuse?

There is the story of a doctor having told a patient that he had tried everything to save the patient and had finally come to the conclusion that nothing would work at that hopeless stage. “Is there anything that you would want to do before you die?” the doctor asked. Even though the patient was feeble and despondent, his response was prompt, “Yes, I would like to see another doctor.” Truly, life exists for us as long as hope exists. Robert Browning, the great poet of hope and optimism, in his poignant poem titled ‘Evelyn Hope’, had this to say at her death:

“So hush, I’ll give you this leaf to keep,
See, I put it in the cold white hand.
Now there is our secret that goes to sleep;
You will wake up and remember and understand!”

We may not be aware but a considerable part of our day is taken up with hopes. These are routine hopes. Small or big but they keep us going. Here are a few examples:

We hope that the number that we have dialed, especially if it is that of Railway or Airport Enquiry would not be engaged.
We hope that the milkman or the maidservant won’t be sick the next morning.
We hope that Indian and especially Mumbai roads would improve.
We hope that there won’t be a wedding party in the club next door so that children could study.
We hope that finally after finishing the work around the house when we step into the bathroom the water won’t play truant.
We hope that no one would ring the doorbell when we watch our favourite TV programme.
We hope that the boss in office won’t think of another new and bright idea.
We hope that when finally we get our turn, the doctor won’t be called for “something important”.
We hope that sanity would somehow return to Pakistan.
We hope that finally we would be able to repay the house loan so that we can start calling it ‘Apna Ghar’.
We hope that the next Hindi movie that we watch would have a different story.
We hope that one day the duration of TV programmes would be more than that of the advertisements.
We hope that our politicians, bureaucrats, and police personnel would understand the true meaning of the term ‘public servant’.
We hope that the noise during the forthcoming festival season would be restricted and public places such as roads would be free for the use for which they are made.

There is no end to it. We hope and hope and hope. Sometimes, some of our hopes come true directly or indirectly and make us happy. However, always it is worth hoping for. Our son, for example, is a die-hard Indian cricket team fan. They can be 143 for 6, requiring another two hundred runs to win but he still hopes that they would win. Once he was proved right, the night when even Kaif’s parents went to see ‘Devdas’ rather than be witness to sure ignominy. Since then, it is not he but we who hope. We hope that there won’t be another ODI during the exams!

Hope is like sunshine through the clouds. It is like raindrops on parched land. Hope is a lighthouse by which we steer our ship in troubled waters. However, hopes transcend the boundaries of mere wants and desires when we do so selflessly. Supposing all people on earth would hope that poverty, hunger and violence would be wiped out forever; do you think they would stay? Supposing some of us would hope to see the smile on the face of a child who lost his parents in bomb blasts, do you think it would never come back? How wonderful the world would be if each of us would hope for something for others at least once in a month!

The other day I was reading about Mata Amritanandamayyi. Why would everyone, from famous to rich, from poor to hungry, from strong to helpless come to see her or be hugged by her? She hopes for others and provides them with a ray of hope.

Yes, it is alright to hope for promotion, for a better house, for a gift or reward, for a holiday and more pay. It is even okay to hope for “zara si lift kara de.” However, once in a while one must hope something for others.

“Lead kindly light,
Keep thou my feet.
I don’t want to see
The distant scene;
One step enough for me.”

In a small village called Ayikuddy near Tirunelvelli, my wife and I went to see a polio rehabilitation centre called ‘Amar Seva Sangam’ and discovered the very embodiment of Hope. The President and all staff of the centre are invalid. The President, Mr Ramakrishnan, is so paralytic that he requires help to even turn in bed. His condition became so when he had an accident many years ago at the time when he was about to join the Navy as a commissioned officer. Yet when we saw him he had the most beatific smile on his face. He runs a centre that provides succour to other polio stricken children. In his hopeless situation he provides hope to hundreds of young boys and girls! After that whenever our own situation is unfavourable, our faces light up when we think of him.

Hope never dies. Next only to Life, it is the second greatest gift of God to us. Why hope? Hope, so as to live better and make others live better. Some four letter words are not bad at all!

MUMBAI RAINS

Now that the monsoons are here in Mumbai again, I keep thinking that there is no other season or weather that can fill one with as deep and different emotions as the rains. There is a little something in these for everyone.

Hindi movies have always used Saawan or rains for varied purposes. The most common is the longing that the village belle feels for her lover who has gone to pardes (out station) and has not returned even when the romantic season is here. Taste this: “Saawan ke jhule pade hain, tum chale aayo (Swings are out on the trees during rains; come to me, my love”; or “Saawan ke din aaye, beeti yaadein laye..(Rainy days arrived again; bringing with them lost memories”.

As far as titillation is concerned, there is nothing like rain to wet the saree of the heroine and give alluring glimpses of her sumptuous assets. The sensuousness of a Bollywood actress is often measured against the scale of her revealing herself whilst doing the rain dance. The heroine sings that her heart is going “dhak dhak” but actually that is the effect of the song and the dance on the audience.

Drops of rainwater falling over a pond and causing small ripples are an enchanting sight. And if one is to watch these whilst listening to the crickets and the plonk plonk of the drops, one would be filled with an overwhelming desire to be out walking in the drizzle. A boat in the lake in soft drizzle is another picturesque sight.

In a city like Mumbai or for that matter any Indian city facing perpetual water shortages, rains signify the abundance of this scarce commodity. Many people just walk in the rain to have a bath they had promised themselves long back. Many leave buckets and pans in the open to fill these up as never before.

Rainy season is a favourite for unplanned holidays or breaks from work. It is because Mumbai’s transportation system comes to a halt with anything but light rains. Schools and colleges are closed and offices are forced to let off their staff either early or for the days when it rains heavily. Walking on the roads is the most dangerous exercise one can indulge in. As you gingerly find your way on the flooded roads and you only manage to find your foot in the pothole you have luck on your side; you manage to return home with minor injuries. However, if your foot finds an open manhole (such manholes are often left open by the municipality to add to the adventure of being in Mumbai) you are instantly one with God.

Rains are also a good excuse for not doing anything or for postponing things. After you have chosen your furniture at the neighbourly shop and paid the advance and you await delivery, the rains break out. You are left high and dry, nay, low and wet. “Let the rains get over”, your friendly shopkeeper informs you, “and I will make sure your sofa set is delivered promptly”.

Rains in Mumbai also result in essential cleanliness of our squalid surroundings or at least some of the muck is hidden in the waters. The perpetual dust settles down. Since we have this compelling urge to litter, rains instantly carry our wrong-doings away from us. Since a large number of Mumbaiites are used to urinating, spitting and defecating in public places, rains promptly absolve us of the guilt of our irresponsible conduct. In this way we can continue to blame the authorities for not making our areas hygienic and mosquito free whilst assuring ourselves unrestricted use of the freedom we won so dearly.

All other seasons you face on your own but there is great togetherness in the rains. Don’t believe me? Well, try being the only person who carries an umbrella when it starts pouring and see how many people will engage you in close conversation under your umbrella. You suffer together waiting for the BEST (named so that you won’t call them WORST) buses to arrive, shifting from one end of the bus stop to the other as the rain changes direction with the breeze. A kind of kinship is cemented that you had never dreamt of. In one of the Mumbai ads, a man instantly marries his son off to a girl whose father was kind enough to provide him shelter in pouring rain.

And then there is family-togetherness. Rains are the best season for the lady of the house to be making and serving maalpuras, pakodas and other fried stuff whilst the rest of the family watches TV in knee deep water. No guests are expected during this weather and you can have all the goodies to yourself. Conversely, you can avoid going to grouchy friends by the handy excuse of rains, “ All of us were ready to come and be with you for the bhajan-kirtan (hymn singing) and then it started raining”.

Rains are thanked profusely by our local milkman; in other weathers he has to depend upon the unreliable municipal water to make his fifty litres into eighty, but, during rains he does not have to do much to increase his earnings. Many Mumbai families stash the raddi (old newspapers and magazines) during other seasons and sell these during the monsoons when they absorb moisture and their weight increases.

Rains are loved by the Mumbai media ever starved to break news. During other seasons there is nothing much to report. But, during rains the media can forever indulge in such populist topics as trashing authorities for being insensitive to people’s basic needs.

Our dog Roger loves the Mumbai rains. The duration of his walks increases and he just loves to wade through pools formed on the walkway. If he could write he would write to the Mayor thanking him for having such pools everywhere. The Mumbai media would hate him for doggedly taking on their watch-dog role.

With all this, there is nothing like Mumbai rains. If you have stood under the shelter of a tree with a paper cone holding singdana (roasted peanuts) or bhutta (corn roasted on coal), you are bound to break into song, “Ai dil hai mushkil jeena yahan; Yeh hai Bombay, yeh hai Bombay meri jaan (O’ my heart, it is so difficult to live here; it is Bombay, my love)”.

Category: Life is like that

EVER THOUGHT WHY – PART I

WHY HOPE?

MUMBAI RAINS

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