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Rise above Rupees 10

My friend and well-wisher (I mean I like to hope so 😉 ) gave an honest remark on the only two blogs that I published so far, that he is waiting for a blog that would talk of something beyond 10 rupees 🙂 Its in that very second that this story flashed before me like a flashback moment in films and I promised him that I will rise above 10 rupees in my next write-up. Ironically, if you would have observed I have mentioned 10 rupees for the fourth time already ;).

Through this tale, I am taking you back to the local trains again. My journeys are more of local trains, the lifeline of Mumbai in all sense. With the increasing crowd of IT hubs in Navi Mumbai, people have to travel across the city for work these days. Travelling roadways from the suburbs to Navi Mumbai is almost like a nightmare to many. There are many who travel from as far as Vasai to these IT parks. What would be better than the local train serving as a knight in shining armour?

Disclaimer: Picture randomly picked from the Internet. Will be replaced soon with original pics from the author.

During one of these journeys, I came across another interesting incident that caught my curious eyes. That day, I sat next to the window seat reading a book that I had picked up from the roadside vendor on a walk over the bridge. It was then that I happened to look up for a moment and my gaze went across the lane where she stood, just a step inside the door, her hair entangled in the cool breeze that swept across her face. Her kohl blackened eyes had some sort of magic that would draw anyone to them, yet seemed to be oblivious of the hundred eyes that stared back. She stood there lost in her own thoughts and my eyes were now fixated on her beauty.

It was rather quick that my attention moved from her beautiful face to a sweet little voice calling out ‘ Didi, ek colouring book Lelo, please. Only 20 rupees’. I looked around to find a small girl with a bunch of colouring books in her little hands. She was selling those books. She didn’t have a look of the regular train vendors and anyone would have noticed that the English she used were rather learnt than rehearsed. Few people brought the books from her in the lift of helping her. Her eyes twinkled with joy with every sale she made.

My destination was nearing so I moved to the doors where the beautiful girl (let’s name her ‘Pari’ for namesake) was still standing looking at the little girl while she approached her. She pulled another lot from a bag hanging on her shoulder and raised it to the girl at the door. Pari took the books from the little one and inquired, “Do you sell these books daily?” , on which she responded, “No, I just sell them on Fridays and Saturdays. On the other days, I go to school. Actually, I sell the books to raise fund for my studies”.

Everyone standing at the doors was all ears to learn her story. The girl with kohl eyes smiled and asked again, “What about your parents?”. The little girl looked a bit sad, “My dad is no more. My mother is a Kaamwali. She washes and cleans others vessels and clothes. I want to help her so I am doing this”. I saw Pari take a book out from her bag and start writing while she asked again, “What’s your mom’s name? How much is your fee? What is your address?”, all of which was answered. She took the details and took out her purse digging for a few hundred, “Take this, I just have this much right now. I hope you can pay your fees with this money and this is my number, call me if you need anything. I will come to visit your parent with my friends in the NGO. I am sure things will be alright for you.”

Many in the train might have wild imaginations of the little girl lying, being part of a huge racket of beggars, taking advantage of the situation and the poor Pari making a total fool of herself. Although, for me, this was the greatest act of kindness. Pari might have of course lost a few hundred and possibilities are that all of it will go to some drunkards pocket, but her act had reflected here the truth, her inner beauty. Her beautiful eyes, face dint matter anymore. She was far more beautiful than one could see on the outside. She had come as an Angel in the little bookseller’s life – Pari, no other name could suit her more.

Stay blessed dear girl is all I could pray 🙂

Sometimes its inevitable to rise above 10 rupees and be a little more generous. As the saying in Marathi goes,

“Denaryane detach jave,

ghenaryane ghetach jave,

gheta gheta eka divashi

denaryache hathach ghyave”

which means, The one who gives should keep giving, the one who borrows should keep borrowing until he borrows the very act of giving from one who gives. Let us all learn to give.

Happy “Joy of Giving” week to all the readers 🙂

Keep loving and reading 🙂

Another 10 money tale

It was yet another day of a commute from my office in Mindspace towards home, in the evening. Trains were not as crowded. Every early starter leaves by this time in the evening seemingly. Not many though.

I regularly take the ladies compartment while shuttling to and fro from work. Today I was in a mood to just observe people. I like doing that sometimes, just looking at people on the train; how stressed, how worked, how happy, how pleasant, how low, how cool, how fashionable, how trendy, how verbal, how quiet they look, it’s nice to just look at them and if they look back at the same time simply give a smile and get that smile back (sometimes :)).

People seem to be glued to their phones these days, chatting to their virtual friends or watching movies perhaps, unlike olden days when it was more of chatting with actual people and playing cards(mostly men) or singing songs. I wonder if it so that people find virtual friends more reliable? Or if they are practising the no noise, no-nonsense thing? Or worst considering that movies and TV-serials on phone are trending? The leading network companies with their 4 G’s and LTE’s and free 10GB data plans are doing their bit in the new trends as well I presume.

Unlike General compartments though, ladies compartments are quite happening I would say. Girls, women dressed up in colourful attires. Everyone in a different look, different style, different characteristic. Once in a while a cute looking kid playing, crying on his mother’s lap is quite a view to cherish. Not to miss the train vendors who jump in and out of the train at their desired stations, selling mostly what pleases the woman’s eye – clips and clutches, Bindis and bangles, earrings and necklaces, also sometimes household items like fridge covers and saree covers, occasionally sarees and dresses as well to name a few.

Today though the compartment seemed scarcely occupied. 4 to 5 women who were dressed well, occupied different sections of the seats put across in 4/4 adjacent lanes. Just alongside my seat came in a woman in nylon saree with her huge sac of puffed rice. Also the other accompaniments were finely cut onions, coriander and some sort of masala with some fried lentils which she used to mix and make a paper cone full of ‘Sookha Bhel’ (a roadside chaat or snack that people love to savour just to calm their tummy rumbles while they are yet to reach their homemade food for dinner). She put her sac on the seat adjacent to mine and got busy making a nice cone of Bhel while calling out ‘Bhel Lelo, Sookha Bhel’

Disclaimer: Picture randomly picked from the Internet. Will be replaced soon with original pics from the author.

Just then I saw a man coming across from the other coop. He seemed to have no legs or had crippled legs. He was almost dragging himself on the floor while asking for some money from all. I took out some coins that I had in my purse and gave them to him. That’s when I saw her, the ‘HERO’ of this story. She carefully took her purse out and took out a 10 rupee note. I thought, maybe she was planning to have a snack from this Bhel wali lady. Yes, of course, she handed the money to her. But what happened next was beyond my imagination.

She gestured the Bhel wali to make a cone of Bhel for the beggar who had already crossed our lane. Our Bhel wali quickly mixed a generous cone of Bhel and walked across the lane to give it to the Beggar. He took it very calmly and quit begging (for a while), crippled down to the open doors and sat there resting his back on the compartment walls. Looking away from all, towards the running trees and roads he relished the only meal that he was probably having in that day.

What came to my mind instantly was a lot of admiration for our ‘HERO’ and a saying in Hindi ‘Ek teer se do nishaan’ which literally means killing two birds in one go, although in a good way here. Hasn’t she done an amazing thing to have helped both the woman selling Bhel for livelihood and also the man who was begging for food to feed himself? Nothing is more divine than feeding the hungry.

Long live my ‘HERO’!!

People in Mumbai

So long I have been sticking to my own diary to pen down my thoughts. Writing a blog is something that I tried and failed miserably years back. I never knew, still, do not, how to convey my feeling in words that people can interpret the way I want them to. Then I figured out why should they ever try to interpret anything as I want them to. Let them have their own interpretations, their own emotions, their own feelings of what I tell them. So, here I am, giving it a try again.

Thanks for joining me!

‘Mumbai Meri Jaan’, as many would like to address her, has stood untiringly through all that she could see and experience. I have lived through her, with her and have witnessed her beauty, the beauty that is way beyond face value, her beauty to accommodate and above all, accept. What makes her what she is, after all, is the people that she has embraced over the years. Ones who are natives, ones who have just migrated, ones who are now part of her in many many ways.

So I thought, let me take you through a journey of knowing them, the people in Mumbai, who look and you would agree are very fast, very busy, very superficial, very selfish and above all very business minded.

Are you really all this, Mumbai?

Today, I took a rickshaw after dropping my daughter at schools. To save some bucks and of course being a bit environment-friendly by sharing while caring, I have started taking the share-auto (meaning sharing an auto with others, they charge you way lesser than taking an auto for yourself). So here I am already in the rickshaw, checking my wallet for the 10 rupees that I had to share for the ride. And for my absolute disappointment, I had no change at all, let alone 10 rupees. I very fishily ask the auto-driver if he had a change for the only 500 rupees note that I could offer on which he very politely denied unlike my previous experience in this case.

I had expected the worst, to be thrown out of the rickshaw for instance but he was kind enough to take me to the destination with the others in the rickshaw.

Now that I had arrived at my destination, I gave it another try waving the 500 rupees note. On this, he just had to say “Kya kare madam, aap jao”. I was surprised and devastated at the same time that I was taking away someone’s bread and butter for my utter ignorance.

And there, she stepped in, with a kind smile, “How much do you need?”. I jumped on my feet, “I need a change for Rs.500”. She peeped into her wallet and pulled a 10 rupees note. I was taken aback by mere confusion, Why would someone just give away that money for someone who is literally a no-one to them.

Before I could gather myself from the embarrassment and thank her for her kindness, she just strolled away. Not even giving me the opportunity to take her number or name to return her favour.

Before this incidence, I would have given people examples of how helpful Japanese are, for my experience I had in Japan. But now on I can proudly say Mumbai wale are equally ‘Dildaar’ 🙂

Two people on the same day changed my perception of Mumbaikars. Mumbaikars are selfish but selfless too. Mumbaikars are running on the tick of the clock but they are there when people need them. Mumbaikars are the ones who make Mumbai – Mumbai.

Disclaimer: Picture randomly picked from the Internet. Will be replaced soon with original pics from the author.