Hi!

I am in Pune at my net cafe - my alternate home, and a sense of deja vu pervades.
I came here to give daughter Neha company and no sooner have I arrived, she is ready to pack her bags and go to MY favourite place - Goa!! Training time, it seems : but WHAT can you train people for in Goa I wonder ? The many ways to drink feni? Lie under a coconut palm and meditate on life? Or more pro-active 'sports' like getting out to the pool side/ beachside and grabbing a 'lounge' before the phirangis all get them? ( It is SO frustrating, I tell you! The last time I was in a nice resort at Goa, i couldn't get to lie around at all on any of the deck chairs provided by the hotel - from the crack of the morning, which in Goa happens around 9a.m. at the earliest - to sunset ALL places were always taken by these half nanga goras or their soaking wet towels, and if you tried removing one, someone else would pounce on you and declare - hey! my friend's coming back over there...Do we have to 'reserve' a place for ourselves in our own country?) But no - what they are hopefully, wishfully training these ppl is in Taxation. Good luck to them!

I said it's deja vu because this happened the very first time I came to Pune on a visit like this 3 years ago too. She had to go to Mahad that time for audit. Tried to talk her boss into cancelling it, said her mother would be all alone...and boss said " well, isn't your mother a BIG girl now? I am sure she can look after herself..."

So here i am, stuck alone again wondering how I will "kill time" for 4 days and a strange thought occured to me - not strange so much as illuminating -

Do we kill time or does time kill us?

Just think - time is supposed to be endless, it has no beginning and no end, it is WE perishable mortals who have tried to 'capture' it in hours and days and weeks...there will come a 'time' when you and I will be%

Aviraj...

I was mute witness to a tragic 'bargain' today.
Aviraj, a plump, innocent looking ten years old child was torn from his maternal grandmother's lap and handed over to his 'Appa', his father's father in the presence of four witnesses - so called renowned members of Society - and the sinister long shadow of the police sub inspector , who was not visible but lurked in the car just outside our gate.

Clearly, he did not want to go, but still he went queitly with tears in his eyes that he tried to supress and not one backward glance. At ten, he knows the reality of Society and that he has no choice.

Neither did his mother; is that the last lesson she taught him by example - that what is ordained in life happens, you can't fight it?

He lost saw her on the night of 13th October, when he was suddenly packed off to " study and spend the night " at his cousin's house. In his house full of father, grand parents and great grandmother he had a feeling that he was leaving his mother desolate and alone - she hadn't eaten the whole day, her eyes were swollen with crying and everyone seemed angry with her. Some telepathy made the child run back to her and ask " are you so fed up with life and being constantly beaten by papa that you will do something?" NO she looked him the eye and promised him, I will never commit suicide, I will live for you and for your nana - nani; I will not leave you in the hands of these 'darindas'.

Next morning he was brought back by his uncle and aunt and saw a few hundred people gathered outside his house. His mother had NOT broken her promise he was sure, but his father had NEVER promised him anything, had he?

His beautiful mother was lying there, peaceful at last. She has consumed poison and killed herself, said his father and his grandparents, but he knew better. He knows better - he does not need to know about the post mortem report which says that his mother died of suffocation/ asyphyxation ,there was poison in her mouth but none in her stomach. That was not the only thing missing in her stomach - chemical analysis clearly showed that she had not eaten in two days. there were scratch marks on some parts of her body too...

Her father and mother - when they were eventually told of their daughter's demise a few hours later - shouted and were telling anyone who would listen - " our daughter was murdered... I gave 4 lakh rupees to this man, her HUSBAND but he still beat her and abused her... he took money from me and spent on his other woman, his rakhel, called Pushpa Patil." Yes, the in laws will tell you, this woman exists - this man DID go to her.

Cut and dried case - right?? Aviraj's father should be arrested and should be in jail.

Sure - the father spent some hours in the jail and had to run away to Nagpur and get anticipatory bail. Aviraj's mother's father - that is! His uncle was not so lucky - he spent a week behind the bars in Amravathi, his mausi's husband, who was only present on the scene because he had come to Amravathi from Wardha to pay condolences to his wife's parents on losing their eldest daughter.

How come? What had they done?

Well - they, the parents at least - commited a lot of wrongs in my book.

First - they had an intercaste love marriage all those years ago because of which no one in the 'samaj' would agree to an alliance with their daughter.

Second - When they finally found a guy who would say yes, they married her off to him not taking into consideration the fact that HE was 10th pass while she was M.A. B.Ed. So what ? they said. He comes from a respectable, rich family and has a flourishing business with his father. Our daughter will live well. ( the flourishing business was a myth, as it later turned out

Third - when she told them he beats her and asks her to get money from her parents and her in laws don't let her work and earn herself - they don't even FEED her for days though she cooks for everyone, they still left her with her in laws. " She insisted she would not leave him" they now say. " Instead of walking out, I will try to reform him and make him work, he is not a bad person" she used to say.

But her father did not get arrested for these crimes ofcourse...

He got arrested because he supposedly 'stole money from his daughter's in laws' on the same day that he also did his daughter's last rites' - yes, he did them, not her husband.

Further, in the presence of a few hundred of their relatives, he also managed to 'kidnap his grandson and run away with him'. (If any of the witnesses were to be truthful they would affirm that the boy cried out to his nana nani " please take me with you, otherwise my father will kill me like he killed my mother")

Yes - my dears. That is the state of law and order in our country which is fast hurtling into a bright techno future and is soon going to be a top world economy!

That the police, AFTER noting down his statement about his daughter's ill treatment and his son in law's wayward ways and threats and fleasing of them, registered an FIR against him.

That the sub inspector accompanied the father in law to Nagpur to re claim the grandson.
"Better let him go" everyone advised the man. " you are already supposed to have kidnapped him - tommorow if they play foul and harm the child in any way, the blame will come on you - and why do YOU want to take the liability - he is THEIR grandson, a 'Chargan' ( that's their name) like them, let them look after him!"

The nana's logic is different - he suffers from mysenthia gravis and is constantly on costly medication - his wife has BP and heart problem - " what future can two sick old people offer him?"

So might, political clout and money power has won again. As Aviraj consoled his grandparents before leaving them " my mother is gone...what has happened has happened...don't cry please... I will get an education, grow up and look after you, I promise..." and then a fearful look comes into his face and they can guess he is thinking " if I live that long ofcourse..."

Please pray for Aviraj's long life... and hope the gods look out for him like they never did for his mother... can we do anything else?

p.s. jutice in not completely dead, may be. When he - the nana - applied for anticipatory bail in Nagpur, the High court judge quashed the FIR against him and noted - " it is nothing but a counterBLAST by the parties who stand to be potentially accused of murder" But even he advised, informally, that till otherwise proved, the boy HAS to be in the custody of his father . He is the only legal guardian now.

Tender Ties...

Back to the Mrs. Grover mentioned in my last blog - when mom walks the catwalk.
She was the granny who used to faint during rehearsals and still went on to win the first prize at the Beauty pageant cum fashion show!

After she was declared the winner, she burst into tears, right there on the stage. Not just a sprinkling of ' joy and victory' but a torrent - and despite the fancy get up she suddenly started looking her age again. The organizers were at a loss what to do with her when a man went on the stage to get her. He looked old too - but better 'preserved'. He hugged her and tenderly kissed her forehead and just held her till she gathered herself. " What a unselfconscious and caring husband !" I commented - no, that's her SON someone corrected me. OK - that made sense, if she was in her 80s the son would be post 60 too - and sons CAN publicly hug and kiss their moms ( Nikky sonnie - are u reading this??)

Later my mother introduced me to a young girl and told me this was the grand-daughter, and it was HER clothes and her ideas for granny's grand evening. She used to accompany her granny EVERYDAY to the rehearsals and when she had her crisis of confidence, or felt physically weak, the grandaughter would pep her up, bolster her confidence and keep her going. It used to be very touching to watch , everyone remembers... she talked to ger granny like a mother talking to her young child " come on Ba, just this one more time..then we'll go home and I'll press your feet ..."

Not that the girl had no life of her own - she is a travel and tourism post grad and is flying to Dubai shortly on a new job. But for those days, she was completely at her grannie's disposal.

Mrs. Grover's photos with her glittering crown were flashed in all the newspapers the next day. But I couldn't help thinking - the REAL jewel in her crown is that gem of her grandaughter, who needs anything else when one has her?

In contrast was Mr. Palonjee Dinshaw - the almost 90 guy who was crowned the 'best' among the guys. He had an unsteady gait but a jaunty walk ! He used to 'totter' briskly, humming loudly the song that used to play for him " babuji dheere chalna - " Everyone thought he was a jolly old fellow, till he made his 'victory speech'.

" Hi - I am Palonjee HASSANJEE Dinshaw - son of Hassonjee as u can see from my name? I want to ask youngsters today - why don't you say your father's name anymore when you introduce yourselves? Are you ashamed? Now that you've made something of your life, do you not care to aknowledge WHO gave you life?"

" Listen to this old man's request... always remember your parents with gratitude!"

His voice broke and he became emotional too then. But I couldn't help noticing that no one came to the stage for him. After a few moments he collected himself and walked off the stage. His jaunty step was gone though...

when mom walks the catwalk!

The downstairs house was abuzz with some new activity for some time...

" Badi madam ko le jana hai" the driver would tell me ( i am the choti madam - believe it or not!) every afternoon.

"We eat brunch everyday these days...i have to go at 1.30..." mum told me mysteriously. So one day, I followed her...oops, sorry to be so dramatic, i accompanied her.

My guess was correct - it was a randezvous... 17 old ladies, were meeting up with 18 old guys and spending the whole afternoon to the tune of " baton hi baton me ishara ho gaya...baithe baithe jeene ka sahara ho gaya..."

Ostensibly ( yaane ki keheno ko ) they were practising for a Fashion Show called - the Second Inning. And - hold your breathe - it was going to be a fashion show cum beauty pageant!! You HAD to be above 50 to participate, but looking at the rag tag group, they were more in the vicinity of 70+ I think that's because folks who are just above 50 don't want to aknowledge they are anywhere near this mark... by the time they can accept it to themselves, they are above 60 and when they do it publicly - they are already over 70!

So these "young at hearts" as ALL of them called themselves, were gathered for practising, I went for a sneak preview, and i am sorry to say, my immediate reaction was - " what a sorry bunch!" I looked at the ladies specially, and thought, my mother was easily the best looking, no competition at all!!

So I couldn't understand why she was so insecure and was into the third round of shopping of something 'appropriate' to wear for the 'funky round'. Dad had refused to go anywhere near a shop now ( having accomapanied her for the first two forays) and it was my turn now...

We walked into a Ready mades shop - the most polular in Nagpur - called believe it or not -GAYSONS!! My mother marched to the counter and said - " mere size ke fitted midi skirts, capris ya bermudas dikhana"

When the man at the counter looked at her bemused, I tried to 'rationalize' ..." well, we want it for my daughter, she wears the same size as her granny..." ( not quite true ofcourse!) But my mom would stare me and him down and say - "NAHI - mere liye hi chahiye - jaldi, jaldi dikhao!"

She would pick up some of the stuff offered - even a tight skirt that ended well above the knees - and disappear into the trial room... few minutes later i would be beckoned " how does this look?" Before I could open my mouth to react, she would declare " I think this is nice but bit too tight over my tummy, no? Let's try something else..."

Finally, we selected dark brown capris with a wine colored sequinned top, sandals to match, and I thought my mom was set. No competition at all from any source.

The day of the final show dawned - all the family and near and dear relatives and friends gathered at the venue, all of them thinking " chairs toh mil he jayenge.... aise show ko kaun ayega!"

The place was packed an hour before the scheduled time... people who came later, had to stand at the back! And it was not full of other contestants relatives either, folks off the road had walked in, full of curiousity to see what the old folks were upto.

The curtains opened and even i gaped with my mounth open! Those 'paunchy, ordinary looking' old guys were all looking so striking and distinguished! All dressed in some ethnic wear and i only then realized that what a variety there is even for men's wear. From the time of the Peshwas to suited brown babus with top hats and walking canes, each guy was a surprise - helped by tons of make up too... the ladies....ohhh the ladies.... my mom looked TAME in her bold capris!

There were grannies wearing tight jeans...tattered, skin tight, faded,,," dangerously low" all kinds! Skirts of all lenghts, even an 'aji' with a colorful skarf wound round her in a Hawain get up.... but the peice de resistance was Mrs. Grover - the oldest lady of the group... a frail 80 eighty years old who , mom told me later, often fainted during rehearsals, and had to be revived with glucose and tea.

when SHE walked on the stage the collective audience howled in disbelief but appreciation too... this lady was in a black tight skirt with a slit no less, a sleeveless slinky top, a glorious afro wig, 4 inch high silettos with wrap around tie ups round her slender ankles...glitters on her bare arms and a cigarette in her hand, actually lit! She held it with one well manicured hand, even taking a puff and threw flying kisses to the "guys" with the other... ohhh... ohhhohh - what a sight!!!

you know it has been almost a month since that show but the city is still agog about it - and why not? Excerpts were aired over ALL calbes, UCN, Zee news, AAj tak...someone said, i don't know whether to believe it - even CNN in their India news segment!

the local nsps are still carrying letters to the editor about it... " Shameful! Do old folks have to degrade themselves like this...is there nothing else they can do?".... "Glorious... now we know age is no bar!"

But i know one thing - my mom's life is transformed big time - at age 72 she has realized, nothing is impossible. So have I...a just turned 50..the path ahead doesn't look so gloomy suddenly!

When hubby is away!

Your husband's away and has been gone for some time, not to Akola or Nanded or Udgir - which is far as he has ventured out alone so far - but all the way to Amrriicaa!!!! Ten thousand miles away ! how does that feel?

Blissful - in the beginning at least! You have the house to yourself, so the only mess you ever have to clear is what YOU made yourself... and this one thing really drives home the fact about how indulgent one is to oneself... when i see my clothes, my shoes, my plate where it shouldn't be, I smile indulgently to myself " now Nita, is the drawing room sofa any place to leave your bra and petticoat around? pick it up, naughty girl!" ( Yup! that's another privilege - you can change where you want).

Now imagine - what massacre would have occured if a wife had found hubby's underclothes in the drawing room??!!

You can change things around as you want - TV in the bedroom...why not? Or better still - TV in the bathroom..haha, that's a real privilge.

You don't have to cook - you can have a sandwich for dinner if you feel like, and a Sundae for lunch ( easy, since the ice cream parlour is just next door....i just have to holler from my balcony and he brings me the flavor i want ). Even better, ppl are ready to feed you, my mom just called to say " garam garam idlis banaye hai...come down for breakfast!"

Now for the flip side... and as the days pass, you discover there are many....tooooooo many..

At night when you get cold ( because it is YOU who has wanted to Ac on ) there is no one to nudge awake and say - "hey...turn off the AC" YOU have fallen asleep while reading, it is YOU who has to get up and switch the tube light off; before going to bed, it is again you who has to go around checking all the doors - why does the house seem such a big, unsafe and unsound place when you are all on your own? Even the dog looks scared witless - damn it! isn't he supposed to watch over you ? Well, someone tell that to my dog...HE hides behind the sofa if someone even bangs on the door loudly!

You want your friends to remember that you are alone and invite you out... instead it is their hubbies who call and say " want to go for a drive??" ( Now why does such an innocent offer sound so loaded?) Because in the next sentence he says " even my wife is not in town!"

You find yourself still setting the table for two and remember fondly how nice it was to wrestle with the TV remote to decide what you would watch over dinner... news, cricket match or a sans bahu serial? Watching TV all by yourself is no fun!!!

You are feeling unwell and there is no one who will get up in the middle of the night and go searching for a '24 hours open' medical shop to get you a bottle of Vicks Vaporub and rub it on you!

The list goes on and on...

And you find the irony of the situation when you write a mail and while pressing the button for SEND remember you don't know your hubby's e mail id!!!!! What the hell? WHY should i know my huband's e-mail id.... husband is one person who should ALWAYS be no more than a distance of one holler away -

COME BACK SOON please...

And now the most ridiculed word...

My last blog, which got endearing feed back from you guys - much thanks! - was about th most beloved word of English - 'Mother'

Now for the word that is most ridiculed, demeaned, mocked at - can you guess what it is? And I don't even need a survey to tell you this word; and as soon as i mention it a ful half of 'humankind' will agree with me instantly - that word is W-I-F-E.

Chinar, Jammy and especially Harry - I can see you snorting in disbelief. May be even some among the fairer sex, who are not yet married, will be skeptical; but let me expound further here. It is NOT that Men per se WANT to demean their wives; but it is what they have been conditioned to do - in fact THEY stand to be ridiculed if they don't fall in with the pattern.

Still don't agree? O.K. I'll give you a small test, just answer this Q -You know two gentlemen, both married - let's call them Ajay and Vijay. Both nice, helpful, interesting fellas to know, with one distinction.

Ajay is the epitome of chivalry, except when it comes to his wife. He is not down right rude to her - being a well brought up kind of a guy generally - but in public he takes CARE to treat his wife with what i have termed "loving contempt" He NEVER praises her, but is careful to constantly tell jokes at her expense - he'll say innane things like - " No, my wife does NOT take an hour to get ready - she can do it in 10 minutes, she just takes 50 minutes to decide WHAT do wear!" This is a gem, I heard just yesterday, from his mouth " I reassure Geeta ( my wife) that I NEVER sleep with other women - when with them, I stay AWAKE!"

Vijay, on the other hand, is the epitome of chivalry, specially with his wife. In private AND public he demonstrates himself to be a loving, tender, caring and most of all an appreciative hubby. On the dot of 8 - a.m. and p.m. - he'll fetch her, her BP medicine with a glass of water. When the Doctor put her on a new pill for her heart to be taken at 2 p.m. he set an alarm on his mobile phone to remind himself of this new duty too - if he is not around, he calls her as soon as the alarm sounds and asks her if she has remembered ----
Goes without saying that he never makes jokes at her expense when in company - on the other hand, he says things like " it was the luckiest day of my life when I married her " and, " I give all credit for my success to my wife - I could have done nothing without her..." He EVEN has the politeness to praise her cooking to others.

Now the Q is - what will the public comment be about these guys?? I bet you 9 out of 10 people of either sexes will say about Vijay, (while enjoying Ajay's jokes hugely) - A man should not be SO subseverient to his wife. This guy is HENPECKED. Some will even consider it bad manners that he goes on and on about wife and get offended!

Why is this so?

The simple answer is - since centuries 'Wise' men of all cultures, like Manu in our's, have 'taught' men to keep women in "their proper place" And crudely put, what is that place? Jooton ke neeche...

So a wife is to be most lovingly, but ALWAYS put down... nahi toh Equality ke claims shuru ho jayenge. I've heard many denizens of society explain, most sincerely, that the recent 'ills' of Society like abusing drugs and drinks, promiscuity, open homosexuality have all sprouted out of 'Women's lib'.

Isn't that SO like men? To treat their own wife thus while ALWAYS praising another man's wife to high skies; to wit, their father's!!!The most politically correct thing to say in the world is " My wife will never be able to cook like my mother!" ( And they wonder why sans and bahus never get along?)

The last point I'll leave you with is - But do women take this lying down?? NO - never. If there is one creature MORE despised sometime than a wife - it is a HUSBAND!!! The secret lies in never letting him let on. How does the wife do it? I'll tell you in my next blog, called - in the immortal quip of a friend " If a man has his will, a woman has her ways..."

The most 'beloved' word of English

Hey!!! After the time i spent with my Pune Bai ( ref my Gharonda blog) it was the turn of my Nagpur girl... she was sick and hospitalized i heard so i visited HER home too.

A neat little room it was, with all signs of one Mama Bear and two little ones inhabiting it; the two little ones being both sons. Their mama being in the hospital it was field day for them - an unexpected holiday and they were freaking out with galli cricket. Otherwise my Savita - their mom - is most particular about sending them off to school very regularly - I could see two school bags tucked neatly into one corner and the school books - all properly covered, lined up on one shelf. It hardly looked like the house of a domestic servant... but with one very common and tell tale sign - there was no sign of the MAN of the house....like so many other dwellings in such slums he is a non resident fella, living in his boozy stratospheres and only coming "home" to steal money that righfully belongs to his kids.

I met Savita's mom though - she told me that her 'little girl' works at 4 houses, from 8 a.m. to 4 p.m. so she can earn enough to put her kids thru school and give them a decent life. She denies herself in the process though and has thus landed in hospital with severe anemia.

This site and story behind it, reminded me of a news item I'd read in the papers some days ago....upon a survey done world wide among english speaking people, they found that the most 'loved' word of the English language was - MOTHER. It beat all other 9 contenders hollow by polling more votes that all the others put together. What were these words? Hope, Beauty, Charity etc. etc. Sorry guys - Father did not exist anywhere at all!!!

cooking a perfect dish

I had invited some people over for dinner the other day. Among other things, I had made 'Rajma'. To be perfectly truthful even if it means being boastful, guests raved about it.

" Even Punjabis don't make such Rajma!" one (obviously) Punjabi guy complimented me. " Tell me, what you put in it?" his wife insisted.

"Guess?" I asked her.

MDH RAjma masala? she asked. No, i replied...some home made garam masala? lots of ginger, garlic? Onions? Coconut?? Her list went on and on and her confusion increased when I replied negatively for everything.

Then WHAT?

Just Rajma, salt and tomatoes with one mirchi - she didn't believe it!

Well, neither would I have believed someone who said that, except that i've realized the true success of good cooking - AND it has nothing at all to do with the ingredients you put in.

Truly - just do it with confidence, follow your instincts and let whatever ingredients you do put in find their own space and jell with each other - be patient, give them time to get along and come into their own and they will never disappoint you.

Don't believe me? Try it out yourself once!!

Happy Cooking...

Gharonda ( a homestead)...

Pramila told me conversationally one day that the Railway Authorities sent an officer to their 'basti' warning them to "go away" or " he would demolish their houses - he had the 'order' ". We laughed at the ridiculous notion and she went back to washing dishes.

Next day Pramila didn't turn up for work, nor the day after - or the day after that - on the fourth day her son Satish woke me up rather early with a shrill door bell that wouldn't stop ringing.
" What's the matter ? Where's the fire ?" I asked irritatedly, alluding to his desparate and urgent bell ringing. " They have pulled our house down, my mother won't be coming for work for some time, she sent me to tell you..." he replied, dead pan. I looked at him properly then. He looked unkempt, unwashed and like he hadn't slept in days ( not like the normally tidy guy who came with clean clothes on and his hair neatly parted and combed even when he turned up at 6 a.m. on sunday mornings to wash the car ). There was a bandage on his hand and a wild look in his eyes. Detecting the look of sympathy on my face, he broke down momentarily, but controlled himself immediately. " We are in a very bad way. I injured my hand while trying to save the tin sheets that we had as a roof; I am not going to work too -" ( he had just been employed by a Courier service and was very proud of his 'employed' status though he had to cycle around town the whole day long).

I went to see Pramila that day at her 'home' that was no more. I had never gone 'visiting' her before and had only a vague idea that she lived somewhere by the railway line down south a few blocks and on the other side of the bridge from our own apartment complex that was by the railway line too. We just drove down the Koregaon park south main road - an area that houses the very rich of Pune and also the internationally known Osho Ashram, where you pay Rs. 14,000/ for one of their two day courses. ( on meditation? World peace? I wouldn't know, i haven't attended!)

On the other side of the road from the big houses was a pucca road leading to a smallish slum. The Republican Party welcomes you to Ghadge Nagar, proclaimed a big billboard.
"Is this where some 'houses' have been demolished?" we asked at the ubiquitious pan thela. "Not here, these are all 'permanant' houses" said one of the residents proudly "go there behind that school building " he pointed out the way to us.

The road just ended behind the school. There was a vacant ground after that where a lot of people seemed to be making jolly as if on a picnic! Women were squatting on the ground and making omlettes over sizzling frying pans and men were walking 'in' with baskets of vegetables - children were sitting on make shift chairs reading.

I am sorry to note that this really was my first impression. When i looked closer, I saw beds and dressing tables, steel almirahs and TV stands, bundles of clothes and pots and pans all in the open huddled in groups round the 'camp fires'.

Pramila's neighbour's and another bai of our area had spotted us by then and came to escort us to Pramila's domain. Walking to the other end of the 'picnic ground' and just on the edge of the railway line we then saw the row of broken huts. Smallish squares where partial walls still stood mute witness to the homes they had contained till just a few days ago. The first awareness that hit me was - such tiny living areas that house(d) families of 6-7 + ? My second thought was - how can anyone live so close to the Railway lines? ( Well - that's why they were demolished in the first place common sense told me ) People had industriously removed all their belongings to the said ground, but still sat vigil over their 'spaces'.

Pramila was upon me by then, a much darker and some what thinner Pramila. Clutching my arms, she burst into tears - " see, what they did to my home; that's where I lived...we are all out in the open now" she pointed to a vacant square unaware that a note of pride had crept into her voice that had just stopped sobbing. " I had paid Rs. 40,000/ for that space just last year. See, my kids go to school just there, one is in the fourth, one in the seventh and my daughter has her 10th board exams starting soon. " Even as I watched two teenage girls were cleaning the ghost of the house open to the skies with broad sweeps of the broom.
"Finish fast, madam has come to visit us " Pramila bellowed out to the girls - " will you have tea sir? madam, what about you? my sister in law will make it for you in her 'house' - it is still standing, it was one of the few that was spared, that other girl is her daughter..." she rambled on.

I made my escape from there fast, as you can imagine. But I was in the throes of a strong guilt even as I entered my own secure flat a few minutes later. It was somewhat untidy and dirty because Pramila had not been around a few days, remember? The three hour daily power outage had just begun but for once I didn't curse the damn MSEB. It felt like heaven to me that day, just having four rooms that still had a roof over them - and not even a tin one! So what if the PMC taxes were killing and the Builder charged a bomb as maintenance charges, I had an inviolate space at least, didn't I?

For the first time in my almost 50 years of life I understood what happens when you read a news item that says " 100 huts uprooted in the anti encroachment drive undertaken by the govt" This Maharashtra CM has reached a count of a 100 thousand already. It is listed as something of a feat, an accomplishment and even national news media seem to think so. Because we live with a mind set that only looks at slums as an abberation, a dirty mole on the face of our otherwise 'beautiful' city(cities). We forget that these are not just dirty brick, mud and thatched with plastic/tin/asbestos abominations, they are HOMES to people. They house children who go to school - it's a marvel any one who lives there actually passes - but last year one of these kids even topped the state merit list! They house a Pramila who is so proud that her eldest who is "12th fail" has begun a job that brings him Rs. 2000/ a month and his boss is so happy he is going to get an increment soon, and money to buy a scooter too! when that happens she will get him married.

These huts are where people live, eat, sleep , dream and build whole life times around. They watch TV too here and see ads for paint and tiles and other TVs and ACs contained in dream mansions they will never have but there is no palpable resentment or jealousy. At least not yet, anyways... After all, who keeps these houses clean? Who cooks in them and who drives the cars that are parked so royally out there ? Pramila, her sister in law and her husband, who else? Why do these huts always come up more around rich affluent areas? Is it because these people have a taste for the 'good life' and like to rub shoulders with the 'rich and famous' ' the bold and the beautiful'?? Or is it vica versa - the rich need them or how would they exist? Would these mem sahibs enter the kitchen thrice a day to cook, look after their own offspring while their hubbies washed and drove their own cars ? Watered their own gardens, taken their own dogs out for walks twice a day?

And does tbe glamour of such jobs bring Pramila and her family to the city from which ever village they have hailed from ? Or from the hell holes of Bihar, Bengal Orrisa or UP? Does the lure of washing dishes for an ex film star/ well known industrialist/ popular politician make these folks forgo their roots and come to the cities? Or is it the annual floods of ravaging rivers, like the Kosi in Bihar and the Brahmaputra in Assam that does the uprooting ? The erratic monsoons, the dried orange orchards that offer no more wages for daily labour and the cotton/sugarcane farmers who used to employ a dozen people but have to make do with 2 - 3 now because of the rates they get for their produce after spending on all those inputs like seed, fertilizer and pesticide? Some of these folks may have been land owners themselves: instead of coming to bombay/Pune/Nasik/Nagpur they could hae just stayed behind and committed suicide like the hundreds/ thousands others all over the contry, right?

In conclusion, let me just ask you one thing. If you had these annoying house sparrows that are so common in India, encroach upon your homes and try to build nests over your fan hubs? Would you throw them out 'bag and baggage' immediately that they ventured on their house building spree or wait till they laid eggs, hatched the eggs and helpless little fledgelings to feed. When their young hadn't developed wings strong enough to fly, would you pull out the nest then and damn the consequences?

If we can't do it to the sparrow, how can we do it fo fellow human beings?