The rain clouds have put everyone in a romantic mood. Santosh Bakaya wonders at the beauty and romance all around, even on the back of a rumbling truck.
Enjoy Morning Meanderings with a hot cup of tea or coffee and some cookies to munch on the food for thought. 😊 ☕️
The schools have reopened after the summer break, and the surroundings are once again echoing with juvenile screams, parental reprimands, rumbling of monster trucks and the honks of school buses.
A single low voltage bulb still shines in one of the shacks of the labourers with a faux brilliance, some of the labourers are still asleep on their string cots and some are rolling up their mats, the women folk are already at the bathing enclosure, making the best of a bad bargain. Some women are beating clothes on a stone slab, with all the strength at their command, the beating interspersed with happy chatter and staccato burst of giggles.
The birds seem to have just come from a communication skills workshop, and appear to be honing the skills learnt there. (Or maybe they have a conference, and are operating their voice boxes, like many people I have come across in conferences, so much in love with their own vices, oops, voices, I mean). Blame this on autocorrect.
Teet – teet – chek – chek – chek – that is the partridge I think.
A clear loud, high-pitched kleet – kleet – kleet, who is that?
Squawk-squawk, goes the peacock from some hidden spot.
The female sunbird tries to avoid the advances of the male and hops on to a branch near me. She smiles at me, or so, I imagine. I smile back. Her eyes reflect a twinkling mischief. A red-wattled lapwing struts around, arrogance in its stride, a baby in tow, and hope in its eyes. It sees some movement in a tiny pond, and heads towards it. Slowly, cautiously. Hopeful. The baby lapwing follows diffidently.
I am absolutely fascinated by the sun rays falling on the bristles of the tooth brush of a labourer woman brushing her teeth. She wonders why I am staring at her. I smile at her, and an unsure smile touches the corners of her lips.
“Akhbaar ki raddi wala!” (Newspaper scrap dealer) The raucous cry of a raddiwala yanks many a sleepyhead from the house.
“Idhar aana, raddi valey.” (Come here, scrap dealer) And he heads towards a night-suit clad man beckoning him with two almost lifeless hands.
Two sparrows are cavorting in their personal swimming pools, which they have appropriated exclusively for themselves and seem to have injected their exuberance in the surroundings. The baby lapwing looks on covetously, and I am amazed to see it looking up at its mother, with what my fertile imagination thinks, is a plea of, “mommy , me too.”
Then, to my intense amusement, I see the two walking up to the swimming pool, a robust confidence visible in the mother lapwing’s confident strutting, and a diffidence in the tiny one’s shambling gait. They stand at the periphery; the baby lapwing now, after the initial interest, seems to have absolutely no idea what to do with itself. Both stand there in throes of indecision, and soon the mother turns back, and the little one follows her towards a friendly riot of dogs who seem to be unabashedly in love with what they are doing. In an exuberance of canine sociability, they are leaping, rolling and yelping in absolute joy.
I walk on further, and a truck rumbles by, it has something written behind it.
I peer closer to read what it is. KARLEY PYAAR KAR LEY KI DIN HAIN YAHI (love and love now, because the time is now!) it says in bold, vibrant letters.
When even monster trucks talk of spreading love, why is there such a lot of hatred around, I wonder, looking at Dharmendra and Meena who are sitting on a cot outside their shack, and for the first time, since I have known them, smiling expansively, and Meena looks almost bashful .
I look up at the overcast sky. The rain clouds have done it, I am sure. Put them in a romantic mood, I mean. Rim jhim key taraney lekey aayi barsaat , that beautiful song from Kala Bazar, (starring Waheeda Rehman and Dev Anand) wafts across to me from an FM radio and I start humming too as I head home, turning back to find the couple looking soulfully into each other’s eyes. Love was in the air, so was rain.
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