Creative beggar

It is always embarrassing for me when the beggar knock on my car window at the signal especially when I am with my friend who is a foreigner. Some of the beggars harass my friends too much when they see their color (too white/too black)

There are many a times when I make up stories (fooling myself more than fooling others) that India is not as poor like it seems and that begging is just another profession which is a bit easier than the rest and that many people would rather beg then seek a proper employment. I always explain to them that beggars have very innovative ideas and sometimes quite hilarious too.

Like the incident that happened today.

No, we were not travelling by car today; I decided to take Lorenzo by auto, since she was highly amused by a three-wheeler that required no seat belts. Haha!

Lorenzo (my friend from Spain) and I were travelling in an auto when our auto-rickshaw stopped at red signal. A young guy with a red cap approached our auto with bunch of flowers in his hand. He removed one flower from the bunch and gave it to Lorenzo saying ‘Good morning, have a nice day”

Highly amused that this guy on the street spoke English, she removed Rs20 and gave to him.

The guy smiled and gave back Rs20 back to her saying that he was no beggar but was giving flowers to people just out of good will.

Lorenzo insisted that he take Rs20 and that it was not as a charity but that she wanted to give him.

The guy smiled and said that if she really wanted to help then she could give him money to buy milk powder for his child.

“Well then, buy milk powder for your child with this Rs20” said Lorenzo pushing the money back into his palm.

“Sorry ma’am.” he said handing Rs20 back to her, “But I cannot get milk powder for Rs20, I need Rs100 to buy the milk powder for my baby.”

Hahahaahaa!!

Talk about begging, this one is a royal beggar! He won’t accept Rs20 because he wants Rs100!!

I was thinking how many people had he fooled this way.

The signal changed to green

“Why don’t you ask you wife to breast feed your child instead” said Lorenzo angrily and snatched the money from his hand as I suppressed my grin.

Air trip from Mumbai to Kolkata

“Okay! Now move over, I need window seat”
“But you asked for aisle seat”
“Oh! I forgot, I wanted window seat actually”
“Hmmmn”
“You know you are not suppose to take pictures from airplane”
“Why?”
“For security reasons”
“But I am not a terrorist, I just clicked for remembrance”
“What remembrance? That you once travelled in an airplane?”
“Grrh! I have traveled hundreds of times; just want a birds eye view of Mumbai and Kolkata”
“On one condition”
“What?
“That you don’t talk after every picture that you take and irritate me”
“Fine, promise”
“Look, click that one”
“Okay!”
"Oh My God!Mumbai airport looks neat!
"Yeah! it does"

“Did you remove that one?”
“Yeah”
"Look! Look! Look! the river is there"
"Yep, I can see that"

“And that one”

“Yeah! I am clicking”
"Mumbai buildings look like matchboxes na"
"Yeah! they do"

“You have the correct angle? Huh?”
"yeah"
"Kolkata has so many trees"
"hmmn"

"Oh yeah we are landing, click, click, click, click na"
“Yep”

“Look there is Kolkata”
“I know, Ma!”

Finally, the trip was good...let me check the pictures please.
You are sometimes so clumsy, If I were not there ,you would remove all faltu pictures.

True! Sigh!

Diwali is just round the corner

To enjoy the true essence of Diwali festival, one should be in India. Last year I was in Spain, and I tried to create the atmosphere of the festival so that my brother’s kids, who have never visited India during this time, could experience this festival. I made rangoli, prepared sweets at home, performed Laxmi pooja at our shop and then went to a Chinese restaurant for dinner, but that was all that we could do. No fire crackers, no lighting of Diyas in the house, no meeting people and no wishing every second person ‘Happy Diwali’ Ah nothing….. But this year, I hope, it is going to be different; I hope it to be the way I like it. The kids in my building are quite excited. I see them every evening with a big basket of fire crackers, having competitions of being the loudest joker. They pretend they are brave but take full five minutes to burst a tiny cracker, cowards! The only brave thing they can do is to burn fooljari. (sparklers). During my growing up days, there was great variety of firecrackers available in the market, like those triangular and circular fountains that sprinkled sparklers in the air, then there was a whistle that would go whizzing up in the air, sometimes in wrong direction chasing a frightened person. Then there were rockets, which we would keep in sleeping position at the end of the lane and see it flying parallel to the ground. We had snakes emerging from a small black tablet, there were chaklis that would go round and round, throwing sparklers in all directions. I don’t see these kids with such simple firecrackers any more, (I am sure they must be available but these kids don’t seem to like it) they just like those loud bombs, which me thinks, gives them thrills, you see them blinking their eyes, covering their ears and waiting for it to explode and then jumping and laughing, like tiny terrorists. I don’t even see any adults with these kids, except the watchman or a maid. Parents, aunts, uncles and relatives are too busy with their own lives to bother accompanying their kids. The streets are decorated with lights and lanterns, retail shops are eagerly waiting for shoppers, but everything is so damn expensive that sitting at home and networking seems like a better option.

Wall of Canvas

It is important to build a wall to separate the street from railway lines, especially if the railway line and street run parallel to each other. It has its advantages; it safeguards the security of people and help them walk in straight line, parallel to the wall without getting distracted by moving train that passes on the other side of the wall, It serves as a shield for naughty children, who may escape the strong grip of their parents and run on the railway track out of curiosity and is also a great boundary of obstacle for those stingy commuters who get special pleasure in travelling without a ticket. But the wall has its disadvantages too when it is used by street dwellers as a back-drop for their temporary-about-to-become-permanent home and some times used by people who have never learnt their bowel-control-habits and peeing on the wall is an instant relief and sometimes, it is even used by hawkers to put up their temporary stall. Unless, it is seen as a canvas by an artistic eye, which will change the wall’s status from a poor, old, rust-colored, dingy wall into a beautiful work of art that the travelers will admire while driving down those colorful lanes. When people start to care, the results are astonishing…. On 15th August, while the whole country celebrated Independence Day, I walked down the Tulsi Pipe Road to watch the children and adult dabble paint on the wall producing amazing art work. Even the children as young as five year old, were happy to hold the paint brush, one size bigger than their size of the palm, giving colored strokes on that dingy wall. “Move a bit, let her click few pictures” said someone in the crowd, letting me capture the event into my lens. Freedom for me, on this day, was to watch the artists doodle freely and let the images appear out of nowhere……..Freedom to express one self in vibrant colors.

Mission unaccomplished….Mumbaikar spirit is still alive……

Now that this madness is almost over, I am thinking about how safe is my city of Mumbai? I have known such firing and violence in Hollywood and Bollywood movies and also on TV news channels when they show war torn countries like Iraq and Israel, Afghanistan and even Kashmir, but Mumbai? No, it can’t be Mumbai! This is unthinkable. This is the place where I have lived most part of my life. Many times, I have returned home alone late nights. I have always boasted about Mumbai being the safest city to live. But now, I am not sure. I get calls and sms from my friends and relative from distant countries asking me if I am safe. Yes, I am safe; I live in a suburb which is far from South Mumbai. There is silence here. The roads are deserted on the first day, because, everybody is glued to TV and afraid to go out, but knowing the Mumbai spirit, it is not possible for any Mumbaikar to be trapped into their house for too long, so by evening, when I am tired of watching TV, I go to Carter road, the nearest sea-side promenade and I meet many people there, basking in the sea breeze and sharing notes, discussing security and cursing politicians Most part of the day, I stayed glued to the TV, watching the commotion as the action unfolds. This is happening just few miles away from my home. There are many people out there. Policemen, fire fighters and commandos, who are trying save the people, trapped in those hotels. There are reporters and cameramen reporting the latest updates. The terrorist had arrived in Mumbai by boat, they made no demands. They just went berserk, throwing bombs, killing people randomly, asking British and Americans for their passports. Their plan was to destroy the symbol of economy strength of Mumbai. They came with the intention of reducing Taj Hotel to rubble, they had enough ammunition (we are told) and they were asked to destroy as much as could they could, till their last breath but they were not expecting early resistance. I am thankful to our Police, army and fire fighters who risked their lives and tried to end it sooner than they had expected. Nevertheless, the resistance went on for more than 60 hours. They had so much ammunition stored in the hotel and nobody knew anything about it? How they were able to smuggle dangerous bombs of this much magnitude into Mumbai? Was nobody watching? We are not even sure about the number of terrorist that have entered the country or how many of them are still hiding in Mumbai? Is it really over? How will I protect myself if one of them knocks on my door? I am really confused. To get some solace, I go on net to read what my other bloggers friends have to say. I keep watching TV periodically (can’t watch it for too long) and then go on net to read more on Ryze and Facebook and have been seeing/reading the anger on every face. But one thing I am sure is that Mumbaikar spirit is unbroken. When asked if they would visit Taj Hotel any time in future, everybody answers are in affirmative that they will always go and will never be afraid. People have come out on the street with candles in their hand to show their solidarity. People in Mumbai have made a pledge. They will take time to be a Mumbaikar rather than parasites that live off its resources. They will no more look the other way when unscrupulous politicians and crass media barons offend their sense of civility. They will turn up to vote. They will really, really care about the people whom they share this city with. No more fighting over Marathi Manoos or Bihari autowallah, or a Muslim neighbors. Mumbaite will stick to each other through thick and thin. They will watch their city border as responsible citizens and will not allow their Mumbai to burn, not for any reason at all. Mumbaikars have pledged to live in harmony and make this a secure place like it always was, before that bomb blast of 1993. Peace and security will return. Mumbaikars are sure of that.

Back in Mumbai

And I was feeling good. Well. At least that’s what I felt when I heard the wheel of the plane rumbling down the runway. But the moment the door opened, I was greeted by the warm, polluted, smoky air. The airport smelt of phenol (ugh!) and the arrival lounge…..well…there is no arrival lounge to talk about. There were thousands of people standing behind the iron dividers, out on the street, all craning their necks to look for a familiar face, wiping their brow and kicking the sand under their feet. The Mumbai airport is under renovation for quite sometime now and there are unfinished constructions everywhere with small hills of sands and stones. The car was parked way too far and my nephew who came to the airport to receive me was quite frustrated and in a very bad humour. On my walk towards to the car park, I saw woman fall down on the debris of sand and stones, that were carelessly scattered every where on the road. Then there were some religious group people welcoming an Indian child star, who had returned with merit and made his family proud. they doted on him, welcoming him with the garlands of fresh flowers and an aarti. Further up, towards the car park, there were group of beggars requesting charity in foreign currency. That’s Mumbai for me. Are we cursed to be born in Mumbai? Why cannot we have cleanliness and comfort on Mumbai streets? Is it too much to ask for?

Children on Mumbai streets

I get very disturbed when I see kids on the streets. They should be studying in some school. Education in India is not very expensive, and there are many NGO’s who are willing to help, but still, how these kids land up on the road and beg at every street signals, is a mystery to me. I don’t like to give them money or patronize them in any ways because I am worried about their future, if they get the taste of money at this young age, and learn that they can earn money by begging or selling on the streets, they will never understand that education is more important. While rich children lead a sheltered and comfortable life, we have poor children who are doing all kids of odd jobs like selling their wares, or begging in the local trains or cooking on the street. Rich parents would never allow their kids to even light a match and here we have street kids as young as five years old, lighting the fire and sitting so close to it. We have six year old child selling her wares in the local train. Seven year old child will do streets shows like tight rope walking Eight year old might be the street musicians Ten year old might be seen begging and crying of pain. Some of the kids are tortured and forced to beg. And some of them are learning to steal at this tender age. I remember of a day, when I was traveling in an auto and I had a food packet in my hand. At one signal, one child came and snatched the food packet from my hand. The signal changed to green and my auto drove on, but I was sorry that the child had to forcibly snatch the food packet from my hand, had he asked me politely I might have given it to him. What these children will grow up to be? I dread about its outcome