The marketplace was crammed with wares. New shinning
steel utensils, latest cookware, gas stoves, dish stands and many more festooned
the steel shops. The flower vendor had an unusual order of sacks of marigold
flowers; there were pale yellow marigold with smaller florets and finer petals.
The orange ones were the poor man’ delight which was low priced. The shop
keepers had a tough time overseeing the sales and the orderliness of their
shops. The shops had to be cleaned and the pictures of Gods also needed the
obligatory gleam after all it was to summon the goddess of wealth. Yes, it was
all groundwork for the laxmi pooja, the goddess of wealth and prosperity. Few
were getting their houses painted, yet others were emptying the junk away from
their homes. Every one seemed busy and eventful abruptly with an evocative
seriousness which a marathon runner faces when he stands ready to out beat all
to prove a do or die situation. Aroma of goodies was wafting out of kitchens. Chakli,
chudha, ladoo and many more savouries were cooked choice fully. Away from the buildings in the shacks and
shanties tired mothers were returning back home. Their little children came,
running and tearing the streets to reach them. There were girls and boys who
could be no more than five to six years of age. Two babies were being lugged by
their elder sisters. It was Diwali, the festival of lights, fervour and
delicacies. They felt the pangs of hunger as they saw their mothers. Their
mothers were not maids working in the houses of rich men who would give away
stale food on the name of charity to cleanse their sins. They were the daily
wage labourers who were over exerted with the on coming festival. Mothers hushed the children and cajoled them
to play for a while more while they started their kerosene pump stoves in haste
to cook for their little children.
The children gaped into the park of the new
residency where their role models, the affluent kids wearing expensive clothes carrying
playthings and crackers dawdled around. They forgot their hunger for a while
and gazed at them. They vied these kids for their prosperous life. They wanted
to be akin to those rich kids whom they had been watching for days together. After
a while when the kids stopped playing, the gang of kids from the shanties ran
to the place where the rich kids had burnt crackers, they stooped down and
picked the partially burnt crackers, dusted it and pocketed it. They tried to
walk like them in the used slippers thrown by those rich children. Still later
after a dinner of sparsely cooked vegetables and rice, these underprivileged
kids had a game of mimicking the rich
children when they tried wearing the clothes given away in charity and the boys
toyed rolling a round pipe on PVC pipes making it their future rolls Royce. The
irony was they impersonated the hypocrisy, the pretence very easily just as the
rich who mimic their sincerity in the name of God dreading that the wealth earned
might be lost in the wrath of the Goddess of Wealth. Wish they could mimic the
uprightness and respectability of simplicity and humility instead of the
façade. Wish the rich kids could role model the significance of education for
these children rather than deceit. The imperfection lies with the pretentious
elders who have marketed falsehood.
Dedicated to my friends Vimala and Durga who have initiated
their first step in societal transformation
To all those who care: If you would like to see what CAN be done to improve the future of the underprivileged children, please drop in at Ramakrishna Math, Dandekar Pul, Pune and look at the children of Balak Sangh: a place to transform the lives of the boys from the zopadpatti across the road. Each of us can do something wherever we are. HAPPY DIWALI
ReplyDeleteThank you sir, i will include this in the fb share too .Thank you for making this more meaningful
ReplyDeleteWe owe so much to the Almighty for showering us with His blessings and placing us in a position to help others. Inspired by your article my son is also sponsoring the monthly education expenses of a poor child.
ReplyDeleteDear vimala, thank you for reading, vaidyanathan has been brought up by the finest set of parents. I know how you have helped many. Being an youngster and sponsoring the education is a deed indeed .God bless you all,
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