Left Behind

I was feeling fidgety, my soul was restless, gulping down ragged breaths, sighing endlessly, lamenting the carefree past that disappeared just like that – my fingers were itching to write, but no words came. They seemed to have gone into a permanent sulk.

Then I saw something. A man with a shovel on his shoulder came out of his shack, trudging along as though bent under the weight of a guilty conscience. The sportive breeze, as frisky as a colt, failed to bring a smile to his face.

The woman sweeping her courtyard with angry strokes, every now and then glaring at the crow which gave vent to a series of irritating caws, remained unaffected by the ministrations of the happy breeze, and its efforts to remove the frowns from the face of a turban clad man also fell flat. So it went into a sulk and was felt no more, heard no more.

But then the tables turned.

A man came out of his house, riding his scooter, and stopped it outside his gate, honking for his better half to join him outside. She came, wiping her hands on a piece of dish cloth. Her hubby asked her to jump on to the pillion. She flung away the dish cloth, raised one leg, and placed it on the scooter, but just as she was about to raise her second leg, and be comfortably perched on the pillion, the scooter raced away with the husband.

The husband did not have eyes behind his back, otherwise he would have seen the metamorphosis of a better half into a bitter half – a screaming, shouting and frothing at the mouth bitter half!

The woman sweeping the courtyard, flung away the broom and ran towards the road to witness the drama unfolding on the road, the man with the shovel dropped his shovel as wave upon wave of laughter hit him and the turban clad man was so carried away with laughter that he had to hold on to his turban for support.

All of them cried out in one voice behind the man with the scooter, “Arrey arrey ruko, tumhara saamaan to reh gaya!” [You have left your luggage behind!]

The man heard, and turned back, an extremely sheepish expression on his face. The other people on the road also joined in the fun, and cheered lustily as the bitter half jumped on to the scooter, and once more turned into a better half, her smile restored.

The scooter raced away to the accompaniment of the merry hoots of the cheer leaders.

The dog who had been snoozing under a ramshackle, discarded car, came out from under the car, looked around, groggily and I can bet, it smiled, the stupor gone, it gave vent to a staccato burst of happy barks and looked around with new eyes .

Hearing this hullabaloo, the breeze came out from hiding and joined in the fun, stirring the trees from their semi comatose state, now no longer in a sulk.

Morning Meanderings is a musings column by Santosh Bakaya

The clouds overhead suddenly seemed to be seized with a paroxysm of uproarious gaiety. They rumbled joyously and rained happy cheer on the harassed humanity down below.

It took a road side comedy to coerce the clouds into releasing the raindrops from a cloudy incarceration. Now the raindrops danced on the streets celebrating the therapeutic value of laughter.

I laughed too, as my anxieties, doubts, fears suddenly vanished. The morning looked promising, my soul was purged, my spirit was cleansed.

Good Morning friends! May all viruses of hate disappear from the face of this bright and beautiful world and may the world be one humongous smiley.

‘Don’t worry about a thing
everything gonna be alright.’

Suddenly Bob Marley started singing in my ears.
I listened, rapt.

Cartoon by Antara

Don’t Forget to Revisit Morning Meanderings Season 1

About the Author

Santosh Bakaya ( 167 Posts)

Dr Santosh Bakaya is the author of three mystery novels for young adults, and a book of essays titled Flights From My Terrace, which was recently published as an e-book on Smashwords. Her poetic biography of Mahatma Gandhi, Ballad Of Bapu has been published by Vitasta Publishers, Delhi, India in May 2015 and has been receiving rave reviews from everywhere. Although a Political theorist, with a doctorate in political theory, it is literature which has been her first love. She was awarded the Reuel international award for language and literature 2014 for her long poem Oh Hark!, which forms part of the Significant Anthology. Many of her poems have figured in the highly commended category in Destiny Poets, a UK based website and many are part of international anthologies. Right now, she is giving the final touches to her satirical novel, tentatively titled Sanakpur Shenanigans.
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