I was sitting at a friend’s place in Delhi when he said, “There is too
much bad news and views on the social media. We need to cut it down.” His wife
immediately said, “No, there is also a lot of good news available but maybe you
tend to see more of the negative things, especially in many of your WA groups, who
constantly share extreme views that you find offensive which in turn colours
your perspective of the world as extreme, offensive and dark. The bitterness
and negativity that you get bombarded with repeatedly is what upsets you and
blinds you to the good that is happening around in your viewing zone.” And that
is when we started sharing some simple, everyday stories of the common man
which never get highlighted and often get lost in the din and cluttered dark
world of religion, politics, ego and show.
The Wet Crow
 |
| Picture courtesy: Internet |
The sky gods had erupted over Mumbai and it had been raining
uninterrupted for many hours. These are times when getting an auto or cab gets
so much more difficult. The roads are chock-o-blocked with bumper to bumper
traffic. Amit was lucky to have got an auto-rickshaw that day and was happily
watching one reel after another as the vehicle slowly made its way from his
workplace to home. After a short smooth run, the auto came to grinding halt on
one of the flyovers leading closer to his home. He saw a young man with an
umbrella standing on one side, for there was no room for him to walk in the
congested road. He appeared to be completely wet as his umbrella had turned
inside out in the gusty wind conditions, while the rain continued to pour
incessantly. He appeared completely drenched, wet as a crow. Amit put out his
hand and asked the young man:
Are you wanting to walk down the
flyover?
Yes, Sir.
Hop in. I will drop you.
The boy readily agreed and found himself in the comfort of the rick
which was dry and safe. The driver, turned back and smiled at him and said… aaraam se baith ja bhai.
The rick started moving slowly but steadily. As the rick reached the
lower end of the flyover, Amit asked the boy…
Is this where you wish to get off
or further somewhere?
Actually, I have to go to Piramal
Nagar…and he started checking the Google Maps for his destination.
I know where Piramal Nagar is and
that is very close to where I am going, so just keep sitting.
After a while, the auto slowed down to allow the young man to get off at
Piramal Nagar. The boy offered to pay Amit some part of the auto fare which he
simply refused. The youngster then said,
Sir, can I have your name and
phone number please. I am Vijay Srinivasan and work with E&Y.
Amit smiled and said…what will
you do with my name. Anyway, I am Amit Chandra and I work for an insurance
company.
The youngster thanked Amit profusely.
I have never met a good soul like
you before.
Amit just smiled and the auto moved on. Later in the evening, Amit got a
LinkedIn invitation from Vijay which he gladly accepted.
Usman Meherbaan
Rajib was a teacher in a municipal school at Kolkata’s Shyambazaar. He
would go to the school in the morning and, after the classes got over, he would
sit down with the children who were weak in Mathematics and English. Most of his
students came from slums around the school since parents who could afford
better schools would never send their children to the municipal schools which
were in a perennially dilapidated state and lacked basic amenities including
teachers. Rajib was a bachelor in his mid-forties and would enjoy his time either
cooking, when he was not with his books, or with children. He could cook, both
the regular stuff as well as exotic Bengali dishes. He was a pucca foodie and would at times go to
the nearby shops and ask them to deliver their specialties.
One place that Rajib loved was the old bakery shop of Usman at
Shyambazaar. He was a regular customer there on most evenings where he would
pick up a small bite and enjoy it with the kullad
chai in the shop next door. The items at Usman’s bakery were extremely
tasty, fresh and easy on the pocket. The funny part was that Usman’s best
seller chicken patty was priced at Rs 20, the egg patty at Rs 25 and the paneer
patty at Rs 30. Everyone wondered how chicken could be cheaper than eggs and why
should the veg paneer patty be the most expensive. No one ever questioned Usman
Bhai who always sat behind the counter while a few youngsters managed the
customers with the orders.
One evening Rajib felt the urge to eat his favourite chicken-garlic
patty and off he went walking to the shop which was about five hundred metres
from his home. While walking, he started visualizing the gentle piece of patty
which once put in the mouth would melt faster than Kwailty ice-cream. In no
time he reached the shop, greeted Usman Bhai and the girl at the counter, both
of whom knew him well. While looking for options, Rajib noticed a bare-footed girl
from the street in shabby clothes standing in front of him. She was also
looking at the options and reading the price written in front of each. She then
started counting the coins in her palm…one at a time. It was quite obvious that
she had got the money from the motorists while standing at the red light at the
street crossing opposite Usman’s shop.
Rajib was taken aback when he noticed that a tiny girl, no more than a
couple of years old, who was also tugging at the skirt of the girl with the
coins and pointing to the chicken rolls on display. The girl, by then, had
realized that she did not have enough money and so she went out of the shop
dragging the little one who was crying to have been denied her treat.
Rajib asked the girl in the counter to pack two chicken garlic patties for
Rs 20 apiece and two chicken rolls for Rs 25 apiece. After paying to Usman
Bhai, he took out the packet containing the rolls, bent down a little and
handed it over to the girl who was sitting outside the shop playing with some
more friends. Rajib did not wait to see the child’s expression. He just straightened
his back and started briskly walking. He reached home in no time and initially
took out one of the patties and ate it in no time. It tasted just too good.
Now, he could not resist eating the next one immediately. He deserved a second
helping today for sure for as they say, one good eat, deserves another….
 |
| Picture courtesy: Internet |
The Flower Girl
Senthil had a standard Sunday morning routine. Early morning, he would
rush to the door to get hold of the crisp newspapers, The Hindu and The Indian
Express. He would make two nice cups of tea, one for his wife, Uma, and one for
himself, take two Britannia Marie biscuits and sit down on the floor to go
through the newspapers cover to cover. No one was allowed to disturb him for an
hour and a half and by then Uma would have made some breakfast that he would
gulp down and end up with a cup of strong filter coffee. Now he was battle
ready…. He would take his two bags and walk away to Kodambakkam Municipal
market to get fresh vegetables and fruits and fish of his choice. Come sun,
come rain, Senthil always followed the same pattern every Sunday morning.
There was more to this routine. On the way to the market, Senthil passed
the beautiful Ayyappa Temple. At times he would go inside the temple, say his
small prayer to Lord Ayyappa and drop in a coin or two in the hundi kept at the entrance. On days when
he did not have the change in the morning, he would make sure he got some
change at the market and he would without fail put the coins on the return leg
of his Sunday sojourn.
A couple of weeks ago, while walking past the temple, Senthil noticed a
lady selling flowers to the devotees. Behind her, he saw a little girl, no more
than two years old, playing alone with some small sticks and stones that she
would have found on the road. There was something in the girl’s look that
caught Senthil’s attention and he stopped for a moment. The girl had a round
face with glowing eyes and she had a big cheek to cheek smile which would melt
anyone’s heart and make them fall in love with the little one. Senthil was
amazed at the simplicity and beauty of a kid who had no fancy clothes and shoes
to wear, no toys to play with and yet was happy with what she had. And then
Senthil moved towards the market place.
After finishing his regular purchases, Senthil went to the grocery store
and asked for two packets of Parle G Gold and paid Rs 20 for the same. He put
the packets in his bag and planned to give one to the little girl on the road and
the other one, he wanted to give to the guards in his housing society, for they
would always do their duty well and treated him and Uma with respect. As he
came close to the temple, Senthil saw the basket of flowers at the same place but
neither the woman nor the little child could be seen. He waited for some time
but there was no sign of the duo. He then decided to walk home and was feeling
bad that he could not give the biscuit to the kid and see her smile one more
time. He walked for about hundred metres then decided to go back to the spot one
more time. Not finding the mother and the child, Senthil just took out the
packet of Parle G and just left it on top of the flowers and returned home
after giving the second packet to the guards at the gate.
Senthil just prayed that no one else would take away the biscuit which
belonged to the little girl and imagined how happy she would be to enjoy a full
packet of crisp biscuits.
That evening, Senthil and Uma were to go to a friend’s place and as he
sat on the driver’s seat and pulled the seat belt across, he saw some notes
jutting out of the small storage space on the inside of the car door below the
window. He remembered, a couple of days ago he had gone to pick up his friend
at the airport and paid the parking attendant a five hundred rupee note and got
back three hundred and twenty. Instead of putting it in his wallet or trouser
pocket, he had just kept the change in the small space below the window.
However, he forgot to take the money from there after reaching home. Vignesh,
the boy who came to clean the car, had seen the money in the last two days and
yet had left it untouched even though this money would have meant a lot to him.
Senthil did not tell Uma about the incident but decided that at the time of
Diwali bonus, he would add an extra three hundred bucks.
There is a Bitter India and there is a Better India. It is for you to
choose, discover and feel.
SS
