huddle

it was 8.30 a.m. and it had been pouring all night.. they looked like a typical bunch of strangers from different strata of society huddled under a bus-stop or a parapet of a sandwichwala or a hardware store.

but, unlike humans, these sparrows didnt give disapproving looks or distanced themselves from anyone among them.. they were just there with each other, perched on the window grill, probably thanking the 'gods' who made such grills for their protection during the showers.

clutching the rusty iron grill with their tiny feet, 2 in front, 1 in the rear.. shaking dramatically, puffing up into a ridiculous ball-like entity, and then shrinking back to their normal size.. one of them rapidly scratching its belly so fast and somewhat acrobatically.. another content to jus sit there n meditate.. and yet another explaining very briefly to his/her friend how his/her day was going on thus far, criticizing the weather maybe.

i cannot imagine humans like these.. society and the self-created strata have made us indifferent to the other person's interests, feelings, wellbeing.. not that its necessary to be shown.. but, even ants greet each other wen they accidently bump into each other.. we're more likely to pick a fight..wish i was a sparrow.

enclosure

this concrete jungle houses a variety of creatures.. some ruthless, some down-to-earth, some downright vicious (usually clad in white dhotis and nehru caps), some the ultimate parasites, and most of the rest tend to be victims.

today, i'm on the bus on my way to work, and at a bus stop, i see this kid, barely 5 or 6, on his knees, washing the rear tyre of a rick.. dutifully soaking the rag in a bucket containing soap water and washing the tyre in circles, and then wiping his brow leaving suds all over his temples.. i felt a gut-churning ache.

in some ways, india is indeed shining, and we possess spirits of steel, proud of our abilities to absorb the most debilitating of events and attacks, and what not.. but the worst kind of infliction is the above.. at some level, we're all a part of a system, a heirarchy.. where the pyramid of well-being is inversely proportional to the strata of society... resource-wise atleast.

paan-chewing jackasses riding in tinted bulletproof vehicles can only hope to see the light of day, a day where there isnt any discrimination in this country and when the sun shines equally on the faces of all and does not depend on whether your hands hold a broom or a pen, whether they wash tyres or get greasy with wrongfully earned currency notes, whether they feed a mouth or deprive others, and whether one allows a mere kid to perform labour when they should be learning how to spell it..

singe

watching lightning repeatedly slice through the gloomy clouds, the same clouds that frictioned to produce them.. sending a chill across the baked city in the middle of september, monsoon territory.

at work.. and with 'all along the watchtower' on the pod treating my ears, i turn from my desk, to find a cohort peering at the glass window, watching the purple streaks of voltage illuminating the raindrops slapping the window.. forget the fears of being drenched, inviting cold, temperature and other unmentionables.

nothing interrupted the open mouths and minds of us mortals .. nothing stole the thunder (pun surely intended).. the sky was orchestrating a perfect symphony of piercing light and delayed bass... it was beautiful... surreal.

the only way to make a grand entrance.. lure us into a week of solar excess.. and then the deluge follows when we least expect it.. but this time round, it was welcome... everything stood still... the 9th floor view made me feel divine, looking down at the scurrying umbrellas, like black beetles.. jostling for space in the impossible concrete world.

the music is always on, but no one listens.. but tonight, everyone sat up and took notice.