The "power" devoid welfare state

Back after a tiring day at office, i was greeted into the airconditioned car. Jiju, little Adi and Chandini had by then comforted themselves in the car. Adi had a burger, his evening snack. There was no way this evening he could sit naked on the cozy sofa with a tin of Milk bikies-his favourite- and a steaming glass of tea and enjoy the series in Asianet, Autograph.
Well, this is not a typical day in ma place of stay(Sharjah). But a typical evening in the "power" devoid welfare state Sharjah.
As always i dont want to probe into the details of "why" the power failure, as am not one among those RJ's who have promised the umpteen number of listners to let them know the reason. Tired i am listening to this complaints on the trip up and down. And after all what sense does it make to know the why, unless u can restore the power back and help out the lakhs of families who r in trouble.
My concern is on a different dimension. And indeed, orienting myself to the pleasures i had in the 'darkness'.
The last time power failed in Sharjah this year, i wrote
"They complained when he played hide and seek, but i dint, for i loved the nostalgia created with the smell of burning candle and the whispers of paper fan" . Agreeing to the fact that there was sarcasm involved, i was really loving it for a few factors.It was around nine at night and we were sure that the power would be restored in a couple of hours. The summer wasnt showing all its might and we could comfortably stand in the verandah. Adithya dragged a chair to the verandah and loyal to his Pappa, gave place to his dada and landed safe on his lap. Me and Sis were not allowed to stand der and comment on the people standing down.It was supposed to be 'boys' place, and we were girls. Jiju den spots his Paint canvas stand lying der which is untouched for months long. I felt happy that he recalled the magic his fingers are bestowed with. Chandini suggestes that it was killing space and got to be removed at the earliest. A small fight followed. But the ambience was too nostalgic that we dint stick on to it for long. We recollected those memories at home when power cuts used to be common, and we used to celebrate it with anthakshari. Idle until then , i used to sit down with a book claiming the kerosene lamp, sooner the power fails.Fun days.....
While we enjoyed Chapati and Dal in the dim candle light, i was equipped with the former statement as status msg for ma Facebook profile.

The time has changed and the summer is at its best now.Dispossesion, i saw, in a new style in the welfare city. Walking down the dreary dark steps- not suited to meet a power crisis anytime- people moved directionless. And i gazed,with lesser panic, thinking in 10 days time i would play anthakshari again under the splendid sky with the kerosene lamp on.....

(Adithya ..the "small big" teacher
( Friday, April 30, 2010 at 12:56pm
I lay on my cozy couch this morning enjoying and internalising The Motor Cycle Diaries, the one work i wanted to read for long. Unlike most times, i had my old Oxford Dictionary- the 1988 model paper back one which Dr.Patricia gifted Pappa-to supplement my reading . The one which travelled all the way from London to Muscut, then to India, comforted itself in ma book shelf at home then at my hostel and finally adorned my small book space here in UAE. He was my companion ever since I learned the alphabet. I still remember the excitement of finding a word for the first time for myself, and know what, the word was potato.ha ha ..Adi kept bothering me for reading on a bright day when i was supposed to play cricket with him. I comfortably ignored him. He wasnt ready to spare me.And what disturbed him more was that i had two books with me at the same time. The Question was sudden, why do u read two at a time?. And I replied, that I was referring the second one for meaning of words. He related them in the best ever way i had ever heard. "Is he friend of the first one?" I could do nothing but nod my head in acceptance of his realisation.He was amazing with that. And I learn from this little teacher that my dictionary is not only a companion to me and my word strength but a friend for all books and written words...One great lesson from a 5 year old.....Thanks Adi.....

A BIGMAC COMBO MEAL

Preface: A part of what follows was narrated to me. I understood what the protagonist in the malayalam movie, "Kadhavaseshan" might have felt when he killed himself "in the shame of being alive". An ametuer scribbler, like me, could articulate myself in this way as i dint want plagiarism to come in the way.

“Mc Donald’s corporation, one of world’s largest chain of hamburger fast food restaurants, "serving nearly 47 million customers daily. Head quartered at…..” I blabbered at supersonic speed trying to reveal my proficiency on Wikipedia pages as Siddharth pulled me towards a McDonalds counter at a food court in Ibn Batuta. “Not Again” he said complaining about the boring lectures I gave him the previous evening at the ‘Starbucks’ on their strategy. He even doubted if I was in love with Howard Schultz. Not new to him, I have been acting this way as I just graduated a few days ago, and I never left an opportunity to irritate him with my management fundas. “One big mac combo meal, and what about you?” the question was to me. “One big mac combo meal” I repeated. An infrequent visitor to Mc Donalds, I wasn’t familiar with their menu. But this one, big mac combo meal, strode over my memory. I was lost in my thoughts by then and I heard Sidd vaguely, when he said that handsome youngman at the counter, to make it two. Sidd cant beat me on anything but blabbering. He was super excited that Friday as he was back jus the other day after his first ever European trip. And I was the victim for those stories about Glasgow. It was a kind of test on my patience as my ego dint let him win over me on talkativeness. One big mac combo meal, that kept my lips locked. I now recall, she ordered for a big mac combo meal that day. Siddharth scored over me as he went on and on collecting the meal and then at the table, a tide of memories washed my conscious. …………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………. It was the monsoon of 2007. I had made a visit to that city of India, The city of dreams. The city whose spirit never dies. On a solitary exploration of Colaba, I had a jute bag, flat chappals , a glass which I felt made me look like a writer. I loved moving around in such disguise. Mc Donald’s was my last option for a meeting. But my friend, the SLt, under Training then, felt it was the most comfortable place for us to catch up. Give it a try, I felt, for I have always chosen book shops and beaches. Late as always, he joined me after 10 minutes of the scheduled time. Enjoying the burger that he ordered for us, he said: “ Paru, imagine, what if we were sitting like this at a coffee bar in our place?” I just smiled at him, trying to take the first bite of my burger. I spilt a little of mayonnaise on my dress. He was aquianted with the city for the last two years and had a lot to tel me about Mumbai. From the westernization to the so called modern ladies, from dharavi to the brothals, from the floods to the dry summer . “One bigmac Combo meal”, I turned back hearing a loud yet kiddish voice. I was taken aback with the attire of the girl that I saw there. A little girl in her early teens. Her hair unwashed and badly plaited. She wore a frock, a dark red one which was improperly zipped. An overheeled platform sandals. And makeup overdone which gave her an elderly look. I gave a puzzled look to Arun. “This is Mumbai”, he said as an answer to my puzzled look. I kept gazing at the little girl and to my convenience she came with her meal and placed herself comfortably opposite to me. As she started enjoying her burger, I noticed her untidy nails with nailcolours. She managed to finish it off pretty fast without spilling anything or licking her fingers. I knew she was used to it. “How can she afford it, and how often can she? It looks as if she is trained to have it and that she is a frequent visitor” my words broke and I have by then spilt the second drop of mayonnaise. “The ‘Bride of the town’, Nagaravadhu ” he said. “And the means of payoff have changed Paro” he completed to make it clear to me. The woman in me felt ashamed of being alive to a see a rather kid transform to a whore. I doubt she has even reached her puberty. An uneasiness crept in me. “This is life to many” he added as he wiped off the mayonnaise on my dress. ……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….. “The Thousand Island dressing”, its just divine!!! Sidd said as he finished his Bigmac Combo meal and pointed out at the spilt over mayonnaise on my dress. My fingers loosened to leave the burger. “A bigmac combo meal”, her voice continued to reverberate.