City Lights

Seven p.m. A bustling city avenue. Tall lamp posts with over a dozen moths hovering above. Empty offices. Filled parking lots. Busy feet, busier still.

The pan-shops reaping in evening business. The darshinis too. The new recruit enjoying a smoke after his first day. (Two ladies shaking their head in disappointment) The widower mechanically picking his dinner take-away.

The office girls trying to charm someone into offering them a ride home. The boss trying to squeeze out into the traffic. A multitude of cars honking. An ambulance pleading passage. Bikers and scooter drivers scurrying through the makeshift opening. The old lady at the bus stop whose eyes automatically close, if only for a minute, her lips furiously moving in prayer. Not more than a handful of strangers moved by either the ambulance or the old lady's muttering. A bunch of working mothers alternating their gaze between their wrist watches and the road, anxious for the bus home. The simultaneous though much delayed arrival of three overcrowded buses, the ensuing confusion, the patience or lack of it by the bus conductor, their departure, the disappointment written all over the face of the student who ran 50 metres only to miss his ride.

Next, the haggling with the auto driver, the smug look worn by the victor, the grumbling adjustments made by many in the large share-auto, the chattering, the giggling, the cursing, the shushing, the honking.

The silent girl, walking briskly to her destination. Her cold stare at the guy walking past. Her fleeeting admiration (lest she be persuaded into buying something) of the old man and his wares. Her respectful smile to the aged cobbler. A momentary religious relapse at the sight of the temple but soon enough the determination to sneak past the traffic to the other side of the road. Her indiscriminating enchantment to the bright displays in the tiny shops dotting the by-lanes and the imposing gift shop on the main road. The mesmerising aroma wafting from the sweet shop, enticing her inward. Her curiosity about the specials for the day in the fancy restaurant, at the greasy food cart, in the darshini, in the ice cream parlour. Her resigned move past all of them. The reduced pace of her walking on seeing the lights out at her place of visit.

The cursory check. The slightest pause, enough for the lady with the kid at her bosom to come crying for pity, the other with the colourful bangles to tell me that they'd look beautiful with the kurti I was wearing. My indecision, her persistence. My vanity, her victory.

The walk back. The same sights and sounds but me more absorbed in my newly acquired bangles, jingling them all the way. The traffic policeman's shriek at my traffic awareness. A young mother smiling at me, lost in my happiness. The screech of tyres as a passing car tries to avoid hitting her daughter. The sweaty man at the food cart wondering if today, at least, I'll go beyond sniffing his food and looking longingly at the fried pakoras. The old man doing the same but more blatantly, flashing the belt which had caught my attention the last time. My own wonder if I'll ever enter the temple I have walked past on innumerable occasions. The unnecessary but mounting impatience as a car tries to back out of the drive-way. My open disgust of everyone smoking at the pan-shop, the wry smile acknowledging that not one of them is going to lose sleep over my dislike. The last few steps.

The castle gates at last. A last, long, wistful look at the world outside. A quick good-bye to my thrill at being just another one of many. Strange no, this human spirit?

Inside the castle, my burning ambition to be different, outside my comfort in being just as lost as millions. Inside, my desire to go down in history, remembered; outside, my perfect pleasure at my neighbour's ignorance(of me). Inside, the constant search for quiet (for whatever reason); outside, finding melody in the evening traffic.

A world of contradictions, ours. I don't know how Birbal couldn't cook his Khichdi, tonight the street lights provided the same warmth as any of the warmest hugs I have ever received.