It was the end of a busy and tiring day at college. Rather hot too, as Chennai was slowly getting into its scorching summer heat. Besides, it was a festive day in some of the Tamil Brahmin houses, called the Karadayan Nonbu or the Saavithri Viratham, the day when women, particularly married ones pray for the well-being and long life of their dear hubbies. Girls, especially little ones get to eat some nice goodies made at home using rice, jaggery, coconut and lots of ghee. What more? Don’t you need to go to school/ college or office next day and flaunt something that will identify that you have celebrated the festival? So, there is also a thin but sacred and powerful yellow thread tied around the neck after the pooja. (Hehe… Now I wonder how many are going to chase me for saying that. Nevertheless, it is a very auspicious occasion with its sanctity and I dare say no more.)
Well, yeah. So I got over with my college for the day and came back home and had to rush to go to my GRE classes, which I was attending in Mylapore, about 8-9 kms from Thiruvanmiyur, where I used to live. People at home told me to get back home soon that day as I had to come back in time for the festival. Though I didn’t want to miss the fun of making those yummy goodies and preparing for the festival, I was not ok with the idea of missing DEJ sir’s class (Donald E. James, taught us verbal in our GRE class and I don’t generally like to miss his classes which are too good and engrossing). So, off I went for the class like I go any other day. And never once did I even dream about what I was going to face that particular day.
Mylapore, as any Chennaiite will know is the hot spot when it comes to religious occasions and for Brahmins, the place is a must-visit-at least-once. With the famous Kapaleeswarar temple’s silhouette in the dusk, with the four side streets of the temple tank abuzz with activity and the pretty women folk with nicely braided and beflowered heads chattering away in Tamil, the very air is fragrant and vibrant. You really can’t help stopping by and appreciating the energy there.
So it was quite natural that I got into the festive mood when I was returning back from class and I stopped my Scooty to call up people at home and ask them if I had to get some Mylapore special things for the pooja. I was just told to get some fruits and flowers.
Now before I proceed, you need to get introduced to this little talisman of mine. It was a denim wallet gifted to me by my brother, which had a small pouch to hold my cell phone as well. But at that exact moment, the cell phone was not in its compartment. Obviously because I was on a call and more importantly, the wallet itself was not with its owner – that’s me.
I had got down from my Scooty to haggle a little with the nearby fruit vendor for bananas and being very pleased with myself for the deal I struck with her, I was about to get the money out of the wallet and EUREKA!!! The wallet is gone. I started searching frantically in the vehicle, trying to remember the things one usually tries to remember. “Where did I use it last?” I had taken out my phone to call home from the wallet. And that is the last I saw of it.
Seconds were ticking and it was already getting late for me to go home. Luckily I had the phone with me. My eyes welled with tears already. Not because I had much money in it – it had just a hundred and five bucks to my knowledge. That’s TO MY KNOWLEDGE. (I will tell you something more shocking later) But the wallet itself was very dear to me.
I just rode all the way back home and once I had parked the vehicle and went inside, my mom and granny came running to tell me to buck up and get ready for the pooja. But there I was, hopelessly standing and recounting to them what had happened. They were just trying to console me and tell me it happens and it was ok. The usual, very true and slightly irksome dialogue came up. “It is ok. It could have been worse.”
But my mind was just refusing to shut it off. All through the ride back home, the only thought that kept me going was that, it belonged to ME and it will and has to find its way back to me somehow. So when all the drama was unfolding, the Nonbu was quite forgotten and those hot goodies just lay there, waiting to be offered to God. Just then, the phone rang tringgggggggggg……
Now, let’s rewind back to one day in my college lab, where I had done my experiments and got my friend Sharmi’s phone number scrawled in a bit of paper for some trivial reason. That little piece of paper with her number lay there in my wallet. Didn’t I say earlier that everything happens with a reason? Now this little bit of paper will explain it.
Coming to the present, back in the market, when I had taken my phone out of the wallet, I had dropped the wallet absently and I didn’t notice it falling down under my vehicle. A guy who had been standing near the bike had taken the wallet and before he realized what was going on, I was gone from there. So, he had like anyone else, opened the wallet to see its contents and found its little money. And the many little photos I had, along with my tattered driving license copy. And he also found two things which were of the most significance. One was this little bit of paper with the number in it and and…
(The shocking thing I was going to tell) Six crisp hundred rupees notes in an interior part of the wallet – which even I didn’t know existed in it. So, this good hearted guy immediately tried calling that number from the chit and asked for a Lakshmi. Sharmi, recognizing who it was meant to be, dutifully gave him my number and that explains why my phone went tringggggg…
I was overjoyed that my wallet was found. But this finder of my purse, (let’s call him Serendipity for now), asked me a hundred questions to make sure it indeed belonged to me. I recounted every single thing I knew of in the wallet. But the six 100 rupees notes – I couldn’t explain it. I suddenly realized in a flash, how it came into my wallet and that is quite irrelevant here. So, finally Serendipity got convinced that it was mine and decided I can get it back with all its contents if I go there. But my people were not going to allow me at that time.
I had to wait for another 24 hours before I could lay my hands on it. My neighbor uncle, who was kind enough to not let me go alone, accompanied me and helped me get it back from Serendipity. Serendipity was rewarded with extra hundred bucks (He had already taken a hundred for the phone call he had made.) for his deed and I was back home fully euphoric and relieved. I felt a very strong sense of gratitude – for Sharmi, for the neighbor uncle, for that bit of paper and most of all to Serendipity and that magical moment of candor, which urged him to make the call to make the wallet reach its owner. After all, it wouldn’t have taken him long to just pocket the money from there and throw off the wallet.
The rest is history – as in, the lectures I had to hear about the importance of being responsible, careful and very importantly aware of what is happening around you. But what mattered to me the most was – Serendipity. They literally call it chance-findings and in this case, what I found was something invaluable – goodwill of everything around me that made this happen. It was quite a miracle to me.
Every year, during this festival, I thank God – for all the miracles he plays around us every day, which we are too busy to notice.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Thursday, April 1, 2010
A memorable return journey to Delhi
The-back-from-vacations-to-work is one of the toughest and most irksome feelings to handle. I was already doing it, reluctantly leaving my home-sweet-home, after a proud moment of my convocation, to catch my morning flight back to Delhi (the city which suddenly seems like someone sprayed super hot lava to it. Trust me, it is so hot). I stepped into the airport and I figure out that I am already running very late for my security check in and other procedures. Still I managed hurried goodbyes to my parents and alas! I was left with a middle seat between two serious looking men. Still, since it was a connecting flight, which passed through Hyderabad, I expected some interesting people will board later. Wink wink
Little did I know of the kind of people I was going to meet. Well, so the flight took off as usual with the mute in-flight safety precautions being demonstrated by pretty looking but indigo-colour-eye shadowed ladies aboard. I kept gazing out quite longingly, wishing my trip could have extended for a couple of more days. Then I slowly dozed off to a short siesta. An hour later, the flight landed in Hyderabad and the two serious looking men also got down. I was wondering who were going to board near me next. Just then, one short, not very plump or lean old lady, perhaps around 60-65 years old, all alone by herself, with a typical Indian big shopper (stuffed to its brim) entered the aisle.
Dangling around one of her shoulders was a small brown bag and there she was, clad in a maroon saree, chattering away in rapid Telgu to the ground force men who had assisted her in getting her bags and in fact herself aboard the flight. She was very reluctant to part with her big shopper. Dear old thing it was to her and she insisted the bag be kept saamnewaali kursi ke niche (the space below the seat in front). So did the people and she got seated. As she was settling in, the other passengers were boarding and having occupied the aisle seat, she was requested to move so that her fellow passengers can get in.
The crew people asked her which language among Hindi, English and Telgu she could understand easily. She was such a sweet, cute, old, dear lady and she replied with the typical old people’s pride that she could understand and speak all three and that she had served in Delhi for 15 long years. The guy, who was to be sitting next to her, was also amused at her display of expertise. The crew members were also equally surprised. She was protesting that she wouldn’t get up from her seat. It was so much like how little kids protest and ask a hundred questions before they become reassured of what they have been asked to do is right. May be she didn’t clearly understand what was being said to her. The passengers tried to go across her to their seats and they finally did. Once they all got settled, she started her typical rapid chatter with her fellow traveler in Telgu. It was lucky for her that he was a Telgu speaking person.
So, I was watching all this and was so busy admiring this brave lady, who reminded me of my own granny and many old people like her in general, that I didn’t realize who was sitting next to me. In the aisle seat next to me was another old lady, this time more to herself. The flight started and I went back to my book and music. After a while, I heard some commotion nearby and suddenly woke up from my slumber and saw that our dear old granny was finding some difficulty in getting up from her seat to go to the restroom. The guy sitting near her was quite helpless, as he couldn’t move without her moving. Actually the seat in front of her was pushed back, which was causing all the confusion. So the old lady next to me was pointing that out and I got up to help granny. Granny then looked more relieved and I waited till she got back to her seat before I went back to mine.
Before the flight just landed, when the usual instructions were being given and trash collected, our granny did something which was all the more amusing but very sweet. She was frantically digging her bag for something, like how a child searches for its most precious toy in a bag of toys. And bingo! She found it. I thought it was perhaps going to be her specs or something and there… She took out a pack of polo… ah yes. The mint with a hole.
And the best part is, she took out the first one from it and gave it to that guy sitting next to her. He was giving a very puzzled but surprised expression (you know what sort of expression I mean right?). She took one for herself so that she can keep chewing it (apparently she did not have teeth) and carefully put it in its place. The lady next to me was asking me if I should help her out. But by then we had landed and when we were about to get out, the airhostess told our granny to wait and she was up again, asking in that same childlike, curious and a little irritated way in English, “Why are they telling me to sit? ”. I couldn’t suppress a smile. Just felt like hugging her and telling her that everything will be ok.
I had boarded the bus to reach the arrival and there again my neighbour old lady sat next to me. She struck a conversation with me, asking me about my course, university and my Chancellor Dr. Pachauri. Apparently, she had been in the teaching field and she was curious to know about my university and Teri. She was also telling me that our ‘granny’ should be only as old as herself. I turned towards the bus window to see if I can spot granny for one last time but I couldn’t. So, I didn’t really notice and the lady next to me also got down from the bus. But I met this old lady again near the conveyer belt and simultaneously, granny was wheeled to the belt by the ground force men and guess who was along with her. Assisting her with her baggage was her fellow traveler, with some quick Telgu phrases.
I was very excited to see her again. Just then, my bag came and along with it were my neighbor’s. I helped her out with her luggage and saw granny leave. My neighbor then offered to drop me nearby from where I could take an auto. I couldn’t refuse and so I went with her. Her driver had come to receive her and I helped her get her walking stick and assisted her to the car. On our way, I got to know that she was none other than Prof. Ratna Naidu, a former professor of Sociology, University of Hyderabad – a Bengali married to a Naidu.
She was very interested to know about the course I am into and said that it is a very relevant one for the current scenario. She also exchanged her phone number and told her driver to catch a good auto waala for me to get back to the university. What more? Prof. Naidu blessed me for a bright future when I got down from the car, before I waved her goodbye.
Travel, as I have always presumed of it, is an enriching and educating experience in itself. There is always something or the other around us that is admirable or sometimes even adorable. it is definitely worth living for. The places we go to, the people we meet, the things we see – everything has a reason, a story to tell and a lesson to teach. Even at this age, the spirit of these two interesting old ladies I met in the flight was truly inspiring. Their independence and courage to travel alone, ignoring a hundred possible things that can go wrong is indeed very appreciable.
That was when I realized that I can’t meet such interesting people from my home-sweet-home every day.
Here are a couple of Prof. Naidu’s works.
http://www.uohyd.ernet.in/Ratna_Naidu.pdf
http://www.erctrust.org/newsletter/sep2002/index.php?load=nl12002-1.htm
Little did I know of the kind of people I was going to meet. Well, so the flight took off as usual with the mute in-flight safety precautions being demonstrated by pretty looking but indigo-colour-eye shadowed ladies aboard. I kept gazing out quite longingly, wishing my trip could have extended for a couple of more days. Then I slowly dozed off to a short siesta. An hour later, the flight landed in Hyderabad and the two serious looking men also got down. I was wondering who were going to board near me next. Just then, one short, not very plump or lean old lady, perhaps around 60-65 years old, all alone by herself, with a typical Indian big shopper (stuffed to its brim) entered the aisle.
Dangling around one of her shoulders was a small brown bag and there she was, clad in a maroon saree, chattering away in rapid Telgu to the ground force men who had assisted her in getting her bags and in fact herself aboard the flight. She was very reluctant to part with her big shopper. Dear old thing it was to her and she insisted the bag be kept saamnewaali kursi ke niche (the space below the seat in front). So did the people and she got seated. As she was settling in, the other passengers were boarding and having occupied the aisle seat, she was requested to move so that her fellow passengers can get in.
The crew people asked her which language among Hindi, English and Telgu she could understand easily. She was such a sweet, cute, old, dear lady and she replied with the typical old people’s pride that she could understand and speak all three and that she had served in Delhi for 15 long years. The guy, who was to be sitting next to her, was also amused at her display of expertise. The crew members were also equally surprised. She was protesting that she wouldn’t get up from her seat. It was so much like how little kids protest and ask a hundred questions before they become reassured of what they have been asked to do is right. May be she didn’t clearly understand what was being said to her. The passengers tried to go across her to their seats and they finally did. Once they all got settled, she started her typical rapid chatter with her fellow traveler in Telgu. It was lucky for her that he was a Telgu speaking person.
So, I was watching all this and was so busy admiring this brave lady, who reminded me of my own granny and many old people like her in general, that I didn’t realize who was sitting next to me. In the aisle seat next to me was another old lady, this time more to herself. The flight started and I went back to my book and music. After a while, I heard some commotion nearby and suddenly woke up from my slumber and saw that our dear old granny was finding some difficulty in getting up from her seat to go to the restroom. The guy sitting near her was quite helpless, as he couldn’t move without her moving. Actually the seat in front of her was pushed back, which was causing all the confusion. So the old lady next to me was pointing that out and I got up to help granny. Granny then looked more relieved and I waited till she got back to her seat before I went back to mine.
Before the flight just landed, when the usual instructions were being given and trash collected, our granny did something which was all the more amusing but very sweet. She was frantically digging her bag for something, like how a child searches for its most precious toy in a bag of toys. And bingo! She found it. I thought it was perhaps going to be her specs or something and there… She took out a pack of polo… ah yes. The mint with a hole.
And the best part is, she took out the first one from it and gave it to that guy sitting next to her. He was giving a very puzzled but surprised expression (you know what sort of expression I mean right?). She took one for herself so that she can keep chewing it (apparently she did not have teeth) and carefully put it in its place. The lady next to me was asking me if I should help her out. But by then we had landed and when we were about to get out, the airhostess told our granny to wait and she was up again, asking in that same childlike, curious and a little irritated way in English, “Why are they telling me to sit? ”. I couldn’t suppress a smile. Just felt like hugging her and telling her that everything will be ok.
I had boarded the bus to reach the arrival and there again my neighbour old lady sat next to me. She struck a conversation with me, asking me about my course, university and my Chancellor Dr. Pachauri. Apparently, she had been in the teaching field and she was curious to know about my university and Teri. She was also telling me that our ‘granny’ should be only as old as herself. I turned towards the bus window to see if I can spot granny for one last time but I couldn’t. So, I didn’t really notice and the lady next to me also got down from the bus. But I met this old lady again near the conveyer belt and simultaneously, granny was wheeled to the belt by the ground force men and guess who was along with her. Assisting her with her baggage was her fellow traveler, with some quick Telgu phrases.
I was very excited to see her again. Just then, my bag came and along with it were my neighbor’s. I helped her out with her luggage and saw granny leave. My neighbor then offered to drop me nearby from where I could take an auto. I couldn’t refuse and so I went with her. Her driver had come to receive her and I helped her get her walking stick and assisted her to the car. On our way, I got to know that she was none other than Prof. Ratna Naidu, a former professor of Sociology, University of Hyderabad – a Bengali married to a Naidu.
She was very interested to know about the course I am into and said that it is a very relevant one for the current scenario. She also exchanged her phone number and told her driver to catch a good auto waala for me to get back to the university. What more? Prof. Naidu blessed me for a bright future when I got down from the car, before I waved her goodbye.
Travel, as I have always presumed of it, is an enriching and educating experience in itself. There is always something or the other around us that is admirable or sometimes even adorable. it is definitely worth living for. The places we go to, the people we meet, the things we see – everything has a reason, a story to tell and a lesson to teach. Even at this age, the spirit of these two interesting old ladies I met in the flight was truly inspiring. Their independence and courage to travel alone, ignoring a hundred possible things that can go wrong is indeed very appreciable.
That was when I realized that I can’t meet such interesting people from my home-sweet-home every day.
Here are a couple of Prof. Naidu’s works.
http://www.uohyd.ernet.in/Ratna_Naidu.pdf
http://www.erctrust.org/newsletter/sep2002/index.php?load=nl12002-1.htm
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