Twenty- five Seven

When nothing means everything

July 6, 2013

‘When you say nothing at all…’

I’ll be back soon, I promise, I tell you while leaving.
We’ll go for a walk.
And you wait all the day
But I come home :
You bound up with a warm licky welcome
And bring me your leash
As I flop in the chair and say
Not now sweetie, I’m tired.
You put your head in my lap and say nothing at all.

Let’s go for a movie, I tell you one morning
The Return of the Dragon
You wanted to see it. Remember?
Its playing at the Inox and PVR too
The 6.30 show .
And if you like later, we can pick up a bite
At the Chinese next door.
You nod absent mindedly your head in the paper
And say nothing at all.

You wake up each morning
And wriggle and wiggle
Stretching up and squirming
With warm wake up sounds
Your arms outstretched upwards
Yours toes gently curling
Your whole body smiles as
You say nothing at all

You come up behind me
So stealthily, quietly
In the middle of the day.
And give me a hug
A squeeze and a cuddle

I feel your love deeply
Though you say nothing at all.

That vase on the side board
The old one from China
Which has been in your family for hundreds of years
I’m sorry it’s crashed into millions of pieces
While dusting the house this morning I fear.
Though you look heartbroken and possibly shattered
You turn away slowly, shrugging your shoulders
Saying nothing at all.

There are times when you’re happy
Excited or frightened
Anxious and sad
Or just plain depressed.
Moments of anger,
Delirious with joy
You share with me
Silently, soundlessly, quietly
Your eyes locked with mine
Saying nothing at all.

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda
Monkey in the market – A tale from Bhaji Gulley

July 6, 2013

Bhaji Gully, a narrow street leading out of Grant Road station has long lost its real name amid the numerous vegetable sellers that have squatted outside the shops lining the street. With tomatoes and onions spilling onto the street and jharoos and dusters waving in your face, you often forget that there are shops behind that milling mess. Last week, for instance, I was shocked to discover a quaint little cake shop behind the yams and the pumpkins. I went inside hesitantly and even more tentatively bought some cake to find that it was the best cake ever!!! And can you believe that I walked past this place sometimes twice a day for the last thirty years and was not even aware that such a place existed???? Needless to say, I’ve been back with alarming regularity with the excuse that now I need to find out which cake is best……….

From seven in the morning till late at night, this place is busy every day of the week except for Sunday evenings. The slow crawl in the mornings when the shopkeepers are busy getting their stalls ready turns to a steady stream of housewives and college students who use this street to access the tuition classes at the other end of the street. Finally at around 6.30 in the evenings when the trains empty out hundreds of commuters, there is a shoulder to shoulder crowd with shoppers stopping by to pick up their daily requirements.

Most of the shopkeepers know me now and I often call them up to have things home delivered. But from time to time I like to go to the market to get a feel of the pulse of things . So this morning I went to the market and walked up to my regular vendor. While he was busy scribbling my order, I could feel he was distracted and sure enough, I found him looking distinctly over my shoulder. Miffed at his attitude, I was about to ask him what had so distracted him when I found that everyone around me was looking up. I turned around and found nothing amiss so I asked him what everyone was staring at.

” A monkey”, he replied with a straight face, waiting for the next item on my list.

Sure enough, when I looked to where he pointed, I saw this scrawny little baby monkey, quivering in the gentle rain, waiting forlornly on an awning , not knowing what to do next. Everybody kept following his movements and suddenly there was a big commotion as the monkey jumped off the building and onto the street! All the street urchins who normally volunteer to carry your bags began chasing the little fellow while the crows began cawing raucously overhead.

Before either of them could get to the monkey, he stepped into the Udipi restaurant round the corner ! I wonder if he got a cup or tea or was turned away instead.

Within seconds, the market went back to normal and everyone forgot the monkey……..
The Tale of a Rat

July 3, 2013

I was all set to go to my yoga class when Bayda the Bai showed me a loaf of bread which had been eaten into wax paper and all. I was shocked to say the least because our trusty neighbourhood grocer aka as Vanya has never given us sub-standard goods in the three decades that I’ve dealt with him. But there it was for all to see, a huge chunk of bread which had been eaten up. I smelt a rat and was determined to get to the bottom of it.

So I took it to the Vanya who had one look at it and replaced it with a fresh loaf. Just in passing he informed me that the bread was delivered home four days earlier……….

That set me thinking and all through the shavasan at the end of the class, I couldn’t help wondering if my inference was wrong i.e. the bread was eaten by a rat but not at the Vanya’s but at my house ! Now considering our “backside” is all boarded up and there is a strong steel scaffolding running up the entire back, it is not impossible for a rat to climb up all the way. Also, with our rear windows badly aligned thanks to the repair work, there is more than enough space for an entire army of rats to enter the house.

I called up our Security which also handles housekeeping matters and two rat catchers were despatched post haste. They arrived all ready to attack the offending rodent armed with a stick jharoo and a cloth of indeterminate provenance.

“Where is he?” they asked ready to get the first swipe .
“I don’t know,” said I.
“Oh! Then how do we kill him?”
“I don’t know. You tell me how.”
“Well first we have to catch him before we get to kill him.”
“Yes I know that,” said I sagely acknowledging a ground breaking discovery.
“Where is the bread?” asked the Rat catcher.
“Why would I keep the bread?” said I
” Oh you should have kept the bread. The rat liked that bread and he would have come to eat more of it.”
“But I’m not feeding a rat,” said I, “I’m feeding my family.”
“Hmmmmm”, thought Rat catcher no1. ” But now I will have think of how to catch the rat.”

A minute later he came up with this plan ,”I know, I’ll go down to the office and get a sticky piece of paper. And I’ll also get some rat poison.”

Off went the two rat catchers and came back with two boards with goop and a cake of rat poison.

He patiently explained to Bayda that the bread should be placed on the goopy board under the trolley where the original bread was kept. If the rat did not get stuck with this trap, then we should lay the second which was bits of rat poison all over the kitchen with some more slices of bread. “But beware,”he warned, ” this is a slow acting poison and the rat won’t die fast. He’ll slowly close his eyes and die,” he said, closing his own eyes and showing me how.

“Ok,” I said, and told Bayda that she had to remember to lay the trap in the night.

It has been two nights since that the rat has eaten the bread without even a trace of a foot print in the goop. This has led to speculation about the perpetrator of the crime…..could it be a cat or even a dog? Or in the worst case scenario it could be an iguana said Anna Shetty with all the wisdom of someone who has shared lodgings with such strange creatures in the past.

This morning Bayda was once again disappointed to see the bread was eaten but the rat was not stuck on the goopy pad. “I’m going to stay up all night and get the bugger,” she said.

I wonder if she will. I’ll have to wait till tomorrow to find out.