Set me free

It is not the first time that I have stumbled upon a bird In a cage. Perhaps it had become part of a wholesale ambience that surrounds as and that which the combined system senses of visual info and analysis in our brains relegated to a secure background not to be acted upon

But last evening as I made my way through the thick greenery that envelopes most buildings in this city I came across this cage and a bird within .

I would have probably walked had I not noticed an almost melancholic look on its face as it seemed to stare into the yonder . It seemed to be lost in thought it's attention hypnotized by something in the horizon .

Well the horizon was not too far as I chased its vector of gaze and saw a clump of trees from where more fortunate free birds seemed to be making a racket and flying in and out. The cacophony of the chirping which could normally be lost in the noise of our thoughts took on a very disturbing new dimension of freedom or lack of it

The bird saw what its lost destiny in front of it through the cage. It knew there was a purpose to the wings that it possesses but that which had become probably atrophied from lack of usage . It knowledge of mobility and Use of appendages was lost . It had started to get used to the idea that perhaps the 180 degree turn that it took within the cage on its swinging rod was the extent of the movement granted by god to it . Till now perhaps .

The visual confuses the poor creature. Pecking gratefully at grains thrown by its owners it had assumed that it had been fortunate . But the green foliage seemed like a different world . It tried to move its now redundant wings and failed.

I had to move on leaving the avian to ponder over its existence now hijacked by its more powerful masters

I just wonder which law deems it ok to trap a a flying being in a prison with a spade volume of less than 15 liters, disallow usage of its basic and fundamental right as designed by nature. I always disliked zoos but I think a bigger crime is right in our homes where we trap living beings for our pleasure.

I saw myself cruelly hoping the bird died and released itself of this human torture rather than die slowly everyday staring at its luckier flying companions . If anyone owns please do rethink about the practice and let them go .

( The picture attached is purely representative )

Pan Bonds Spring

A little touristic Knick knack resembling the Golden eye duck stared with inanimate intensity from the dark furnished teak table top it rested on. The pages of The world is not Enough by Raymond Benson flapped happily whenever the rotating table fan swished air in its direction. A rotund metal container in not so classy blue printing stood proudly as three pairs of eyes peered at it.

PB looked up at his manager and the visitor who stood reverently with folded hands, his thick lips pursed in a semi maniacal smile.

“Mamma Mia’, he said.’ You really mean it. This is a killer product “

Tim blinked hard stuttering  

“ That appears to be true sir, he believes very strongly in it” Pointing to the still permanently smiling gentleman thick fingered hand still folded.

“Apparently the product is appreciated Pan country across all segments. Apparently very sustainable” Tim continued.

PB looked up. An assignment had come his way after a long time and he was itching to hold a gun again.

 “Tell me more”

Tim looked back at the visitor seeking support.

The visitor gave a Dracula grin and said “Sir you can paint the town red sir". Very divine smelling product sir. Lots of flavor sir. Changes the color of the teeth”

PB smiled “I get it. You guys from that part of the world are extremely smart in natural products. So it should be a breath freshener - teeth whitener you are talking about right? “

“Sir very colorful product sir. We have been painting the country for a long, long time now. Our presence is felt and is visible in every corner of the land, building, road, alleys, theatres you name it”

“Haah Yes you folks are really colorful I know I know” PB smiles knowledgeably

“So sir Pukka samjhu “

PB blinks at Tim with eyebrows raised “What does that mean?”

Tim thinks, looks back at the expectant face of the visitor who indeed looks very different from the more industrialist types he had met before. But the promise of millions was hard to ignore. Easy money to hold a can the way a gun was held was enough to hijack his curiosity.

“Sir I think he wants confirmation”

PB pauses “But why me?”  He asks stroking his beard

The visitor perks up

“Sir who better than you to tell people to die another day”

“Sorry??” PB is startled

“Sir I meant that the world has not had enough of our product. Tomorrow never dies. Have more today. And sir if you can say that holding it close to your chest the way you do with your gun and smile through your impressive closed lips”

“Uh Ok But it is a teeth whitener right, so how can one do it through closed lips?”

“Sir don’t you worry about that. It will look like you have just had some to chew, you are impressed with the fresh breath, the divine smell spreads around and you kill every one with the tin… err I mean you kill with your looks…er I mean you kill the competition with your looks “

“Hmmm You know I am an ardent supporter of health campaigns especially cancer. Hope all that is taken care of?”

“Yes sir, absolutely yes sir, We have been contributing to increase the masses in that cause for decades now. Even the ruling class with their whites are big buyers of our products. You will be happy sir. Your fan following will amplify like Nobody’s business “

PB looks at Tim. Tim Nods. The deal is struck

The visitor leaves.

PB looks up at Tim.

“I think we struck Gold here. That is one NiceTin. I look forward to holding it to my heart. Been ages since I did that. I hope that country chews on that a lot and welcomes my contribution to their whitening and freshening era”

Tim nods “Time will tell sir “

Puja, Pandal and Bhog

The sound of bamboos tumbling out of a truck's back inevitably had us springing out of bed. The uniformly sized sticks crashing happily together on the ground like a bunch of friends rollicking in the dust and bouncing up and down on each other before settling down and allowing the next batch to land next to them. Living right next to the open air auditorium, we rushed to a safe distance to watch the half open truck unloading its very serious ware. The pandal makers stood nearby sizing up the package received and indicating that they had received one bunch less. These besides the excited loudspeakers were the first important signs that week long Durga Puja celebrations could soon take over the neighbourhood.

The entire programme managed by the Durga Puja Sarbojanin samiti was always an exercise in excellent project management. I can safely say that I have never seen more unified efforts than by a group of people( employees of HAL where my father worked) from the Bengali community. Their visit to our homes a month before the actual festivities even before the bamboos struck ground usually heralded the oncoming festival season. They usually came in groups of four and being acquainted with father they usually began the banter with a “ Aur Ranganath Saab, tho kitna tickets “ and some light jokes and denied cups of tea later they moved onto jovially to the next house in the colony. Have never seen a more apolitical set of friends gathering public approval with so much ease.

Back to the bamboos then , which were followed by blue plastic tarpaulins and the bundles of jute. The workers usually arrived overnight and by the next morning an impressive structure networking a roof holding the blue tarpaulin spawning hundreds of meters appeared. In one important corner god began to take shape. Specially invited artists from Kolkata worked with delicate hands to put to life goddess Durga from her invisible omnipresence. We never tired of watching them through the night because it also gave us a legitimate reason to stay awake and outside our homes.

And not to mention the lovely mattresses which became our acrobatic ground. Jumping up and tumbling down, performing head over heels gymnastics with the friendly mattress cushioning our impact before the good natured uncles gently chased us away.

The celebrations were usually culminated daily with number of shows ranging from Sachin Shankar-Mamta Shankar with their outstanding dance shows to lovely Marathi dramas, a much awaited Orchestra either by Babla Orchestra ( Kalyanji anandji's younger brother) or late Manna De. We had the opportunity to watch Kavita Krishnamurthy, Sudesh Bhosle, Late Gopi Krishna, Hema Malini and even Johnny Lever.

Bengalis besides being extremely jovial and chatty are also amongst the most sweet people. No wonder then I have a host of close friends from amongst them and understand Bengali fairly well. It helps that my name also helps people mistake me to be one.

Having Bengali friends also meant that one got to partake of the best part of Durga puja, the Bhog. The special Khichdi which is made during the day at the pandal when beautifully dressed women in their rich red sarees, hands and legs hennaed a beautiful and the men in their light brown cotton collarless kurtas ( only from Kolkata with their flowery embroidery around the neck) came together in jolly celebration. I always had a standing invite.

Today as the festival progresses in India, I recalled the bhog and called up my friends Somnath and Jayathi to get a detailed recipe of the Bhog khichadi. Strong visual memories came rushing back and I had to make this East Indian version of the Pongol with a rollicking mix of Mung Bean and Rice frolicking around with roasted spices ranging from clove to star anise to cinnamon.

The result was good but still something was missing. I think it was the vibrant positive air at mass gatherings of happy humans that makes the cooking even more smack worthy. Well for now this should be a good second to anchor down the beautiful memories before they disappeared

Happy Durga Puja friends !