Skip to main content

Priceless Bond

 After eleven long years we finally purchased an apartment in Pune. The edifice is actually multifaceted, a cluster of four smaller structures and a few row houses nestled in a colony called Rajyog Marg; however the lane has no resemblance to a stately street. Its narrow and the situation of this street is dismal with potholes. It is a worn out lane as there are quite a few new apartments being built and people proudly compliment the area calling it mini Mumbai. When we enter an adjoining lane through this lane the view is overwhelming. Close at hand stands a spacious and majestic complex .The name board of the building has not been put up as the completion is yet to be assessed by the municipal authorities. Each block has seven floors with five flats on each floor.


There is an office which will be used as a club house later with green lawn in the garden lined  by palm and other fast growing trees. There is sufficient space for walking, playing and chatting and above all a good parking space for all the vehicles’. Everyday grandparents, mothers with little children, adults and many more people can be seen sitting near this lawn on the paved periphery at various places surrounding the lawn. Each day at 12.30p.m I hear voices of little children who come back from play school accompanied by their youthful mothers. The kids are probably two to two and a half years old. The mothers take the weight off their feet on the paved path and let the kids play on the grass. They are so engrossed in their talks that only a wail of the child or a whimper disturbs their talk. One scorching day the kids found the garden being watered by one of the labourers. This manual worker does a variety of jobs; he sweeps, lays the tiles in the new houses, mixes paints for painting the walls or waters the garden. He is a typical Maharashtrian as he wears a white kurta and pyjama. The kurta is a long one which gets soiled due to his work.  He sports a Nehru cap occasionally. He is tall, heavily built and is over fifty years of age with a huge tummy protruding which makes him look gigantic. In spite of his appearance there is a tenderness in him. After watering the lawn the worker began pulling back the huge water pipe. Those little children held the  garden pipe in their hands and gave a tug, still later the gardener gave a tug followed by the kids tug. The kids began enjoying the tug and shove. A strong pull resulted in the fall of one of the kids. The kid screamed and started howling. The other kids left the pipe and ran to their mothers: who looked at the old man resentfully. The poor man was astounded at this behaviour. He sadly turned to go on with his work as he glanced at the kid one last time; the kid from his mother’s arms was showering flying kisses at the old man making the whole incident a memorable one. Regardless of all the anguish the bond of love holds us together , guiding us to a better world.


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

A Tryst with ‘Carmbola’

"If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant: if we did not sometimes taste of adversity, prosperity would not be so welcome"—   Anne Bradstreet  ‘Karmbala Torro’ is what we call it in Konkani. It is a pickle and my Mother in law pickles it wonderfully well. Whenever we visit Tiruvalla, I find bottles of these stacked to be devoured during our stay and carry  some to Pune, which lasts a few months reminding us of our visit. ‘Karambal’ is small, juicy and sour with ridges known as ‘Carmbola’ in English, commonly known as Star fruit. The   Scientific name is   Averrhoa carambola. Star fruit is a small, bushy evergreen tree that grows very well under hot, humid, tropical conditions. Carambola is native to Malayan peninsula and cultivated in many parts of Southeast Asia, Pacific islands and China for its fruits. Although abundant and plentiful, carambola is yet to gain popularity, especially in the western world.(Wikipedia)   The fruit is a...
6 comments
Read more

It Never Hurts to Keep Looking for Sunshine

The young man walked proudly holding his baby in his arms, the baby was just 4 months old. She was named Munmun and called Moon affectionately. She sported a beautiful smile and had plenty of admirers. Far away in a man-made forest, a black dog had a litter of two pups. One of the pups, as black as coal, tended to bump into everything around it. The other pup was beige and appeared healthy. A philanthropist adopted it within the first few days. Everyone fondly called the little black puppy Bumpy. Unfortunately, after losing its way, Bumpy ended up all alone at the top of the mountain, searching for someone to care for it. However, it refused to give up on life and continued to bump into people. Some kicked it, some petted it, while others simply ignored it. As time passed, Bumpy grew into a proud stray dog, carrying an air of dignity despite no one being able to identify its breed. In the forest, it met another dog, a black-and-white hound, and the two quickly became the best of friend...
Post a Comment
Read more

We are all visitors to this time, this place

  The piercing sound of the long lash caught my attention as a man approached the road. He was half-naked, wearing a type of palazzo-style garment on his lower body. His back was painted red, and he periodically lashed himself to the rhythm of the music. After a while, he began to beg for money. When the traffic signal turned green, we all rushed back to reality, driving forward before the lights turned red again. As I began to drive, I couldn’t help but wonder what the beggar hoped for in life — was it more lashes, more cash, more begging, or perhaps a hot meal? These thoughts lingered with me every time I encountered a situation. At college, I noticed preparations for new admissions were underway. The faculty seemed eager to welcome a new group of students. Many changes were occurring, particularly with the college becoming autonomous. I observed the faculty looking forward to these changes, including new positions and additional responsibilities. I wear a smartwatch, and when I ...
Post a Comment
Read more