So difficult to be simple...
In these almost 2 years of staying at home, I have seen this child grow from my balcony. She's roughly 4-5 years old, has started to go to school now. I don't know her name. She lives with her mother, auntie (mother's younger sister) and her maternal grand parents. I began to notice her since she just started walking. Her mother would run around her trying to feed her rice and smashed potatoes with dal (a staple bengali breakfast, lunch and dinner sort of ). She was as happy and unperturbed as a 2n1/2 - 3 year old would be. I enjoyed watching her, rather was drawn to her for the liveliness and newness she bought into the mundane, boring, busy lives of dysfunctional adults.
It's only after few days of watching her grow, when it suddenly hit me, where is this kid's father!? and how come it's always only her mother attending to her. And so I asked around and got to know that her mother does not stay with the husband anymore. She came back to her father's home after few months of marriage. In all probability, it was a case of abusive marriage. And somehow the rough, harsh and dominating nature of the mother made sense to me. Previously, where I always felt like she could be a little affectionate towards the kid, was now supported with the knowledge that she probably does not have enough love even for herself. I wasn't judging her anymore. I saw why she was the way she was.
About the grandfather, he's an old, thin and lean, tall, sturdy Rikshawala, an honest hard-working man who doesn't have much expectations or regrets in life. He is simple and doesn't have any qualms about it either. It kind of shows from his demeanor.
His younger daughter, the auntie was a really good tennis player. Won many competitions as well but could not persue it for reasons unknown to me. I see her every single day waking up early, cleaning utensils, washing clothes, hanging them out for dry, clean the veranda in front with buckets of water. She doesn't seem to get tired, and I don't even see her resenting or passive aggressively treating her family members, or grudging over anything.
About the grandmother, I seldom get to see her. But on most occassions I see her coming out to pluck drumstick flowers for frying 'pakodas'. It's one of those side dishes that makes the whole meal appetising and something to look forward to. The flowers are usually at the top, so you have to use a long stick, tie a knife or a ''katari' at its tip to chop them off. She would do this with a lot of determination and make sure all of them are down. The best thing is within a week's time you'd see this tree generously growing back its lost flowers in full bloom.
So four people and a child living together, a plain white washed two storeyed brick wall with roofs made up of tin. Two windows at the top and one entrance. Ohh ya, they also have 3 older dogs, all black in colour who guard their home. This is the home of a Rikshawala. Not the modern toto walas, but the old fashioned leg pedalled ones.
I am not describing their life in an attempt to portray anything good or bad, or compare what's better or worse. I witnessed something simple that is admirable. Something beautiful that will stay with me. The simplicity of existence and the profoundness there is, in just being 'simple'.
Long back I heard this from the movie 'Bawarchi', that old Rajesh Khanna classic which goes something like....
" It is so simple to be happy, but so difficult to be simple"
For the major part of my life I did not get the ' so difficult to be simple' part. I was convinced there's something wrong with the quote. But maybe there isn't. Perhaps I see what the writer meant when he said that.
It's only after few days of watching her grow, when it suddenly hit me, where is this kid's father!? and how come it's always only her mother attending to her. And so I asked around and got to know that her mother does not stay with the husband anymore. She came back to her father's home after few months of marriage. In all probability, it was a case of abusive marriage. And somehow the rough, harsh and dominating nature of the mother made sense to me. Previously, where I always felt like she could be a little affectionate towards the kid, was now supported with the knowledge that she probably does not have enough love even for herself. I wasn't judging her anymore. I saw why she was the way she was.
About the grandfather, he's an old, thin and lean, tall, sturdy Rikshawala, an honest hard-working man who doesn't have much expectations or regrets in life. He is simple and doesn't have any qualms about it either. It kind of shows from his demeanor.
His younger daughter, the auntie was a really good tennis player. Won many competitions as well but could not persue it for reasons unknown to me. I see her every single day waking up early, cleaning utensils, washing clothes, hanging them out for dry, clean the veranda in front with buckets of water. She doesn't seem to get tired, and I don't even see her resenting or passive aggressively treating her family members, or grudging over anything.
About the grandmother, I seldom get to see her. But on most occassions I see her coming out to pluck drumstick flowers for frying 'pakodas'. It's one of those side dishes that makes the whole meal appetising and something to look forward to. The flowers are usually at the top, so you have to use a long stick, tie a knife or a ''katari' at its tip to chop them off. She would do this with a lot of determination and make sure all of them are down. The best thing is within a week's time you'd see this tree generously growing back its lost flowers in full bloom.
So four people and a child living together, a plain white washed two storeyed brick wall with roofs made up of tin. Two windows at the top and one entrance. Ohh ya, they also have 3 older dogs, all black in colour who guard their home. This is the home of a Rikshawala. Not the modern toto walas, but the old fashioned leg pedalled ones.
I am not describing their life in an attempt to portray anything good or bad, or compare what's better or worse. I witnessed something simple that is admirable. Something beautiful that will stay with me. The simplicity of existence and the profoundness there is, in just being 'simple'.
Long back I heard this from the movie 'Bawarchi', that old Rajesh Khanna classic which goes something like....
" It is so simple to be happy, but so difficult to be simple"
For the major part of my life I did not get the ' so difficult to be simple' part. I was convinced there's something wrong with the quote. But maybe there isn't. Perhaps I see what the writer meant when he said that.
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