Sunday, December 27, 2009
The air is cold and laden with warm and delicious aromas. Festivity peeps out of windows of the malls. West may be miles away but its reflection manifests recurrently across the city marrying the vulgar extravagance of the native breed.Begun at Diwali it has reached its climax. Alcohol will trickle down every occasion it finds befitting and somehow infest the mass with a version of festivity which will tickle some basic instincts of the crowd.
Is my hypocrisy scaling new heights? Have the times changed? Am I reading too much into these incidences? You decide.
Just outside my colony is a general store. From a room half the size of the room am currently sitting and typing from, the owner caters to the needs of 8-900 odd residents in the vicinity. To help him deliver his products is appointed a hazel eyed small boy. The boy always smiles back when you smile at him. He is very enthusiastic to open a cold drink bottle whenever you order one and rushes to the fridge even before his master commands, then doles out the names of all the cold drinks present in the cooling chamber. You can see him moving around with a bag, almost half his size, held with both the hands, with goods inside to be delivered. On his way to the customers or back he indulges in a little play here and there like a kid of his age would. He looks on at the ground where school children play football. These are the same kids who come to his shop while going home in the evening and buy sweets and stationeries worth his week’s salary. Have seen him cry just a couple of times from the rebuke received from his master.
If you are attending a function, party, or any form of celebration being conducted within a canopy erected, just wait for the euphoria to die down or for that matter if you are one amongst the mall’s last customers take your time to exit. You will see a group of people managing things with a sense of detachment. They are cleaning, collecting, setting up new sets, and dismantling the old ones. These people somehow remind me of that old gardener who would prepare the garden for the kids to play in the evening. Nowadays people decide to have a blast and the moment they enter the arena they cheer, they laugh and they act happy.
Yesterday there was a function in my colony; a slim and trim Santa came walking into the ground. He doled out gifts to the kids. Then followed a dance program where kids as young as 4 were shaking their waists to item numbers from movies which were played at decibel levels enough to deafen a person. I played audience for ten to fifteen minutes on my way out to quench my nicotine thirst. Just outside the colony were gathered a group of kids from the chawls nearby wanting to go inside but barred by a watchman who resided in the same chawl but worked for our colony. The little kid at the general store was missing today. Some strange chemical reactions churned out some equally strange emotions in my mind. I resigned to my room. The light from the ground below was flooding my room
The anchor announced "the next performance is a dance from “Kaminey”"