DABBLER SCRIBBLES

                                                “Sir, would you like to know your day? What your fate holds for you today? I will tell you what the stars want to tell you and you can avoid all the obstructions to reach zenith. Come to me”, the astrologer urged while arranging his tarot cards under the same banyan tree. For the past 3 years he has always placed his cage of parrot to his right, just beside the red stone which he got for himself when he was learning his art of astrology from Rajasthan. His “dhoti” that has the shade of cream shone as usual in the dim beacons of sun rays that passed the leaves dangling along the branches to finally fall on him to light his aura. The blue bag that holds his tarot cards and the little cloth carpet, was hung adeptly to one of the low lying branches of the banyan tree. His parrot doesn’t seem to get startled when something corporal passes the small lane of Asavgunj, a small town in Uttar Pradesh. But when the street dogs make a claim of property, the parrot would withdraw itself to the rear end of the cage until Athyarth, the astrologer, scared them away with a pebble or two. Athyarth always came by 8 am and proclaimed his spot by the banyan tree to tell the future of the people and earn a bit of fortune.

                    “Sir, would you like to know what the future holds for you? Please come and know what your stars are up to”, he signaled an invitation to one of the two merchants who seemed to have given a glance at him. But they walked away. He drew a long breath and looked at his parrot, who seems to enjoy the joblessness for quite some time.

                    “Sir, you should be extremely careful today”, he pitched his voice loud enough for Vedyansh to hear, the mediocre clerk at the office of a dogmatic landlord. Vedyansh has always believed that he shared a rather unpleasant relationship with his stars and that it was his stars and luck which failed him in his metric exams and made him succumb to a mediocre life to live with his ailing mother, his only parent left.

                    “What should I be careful of?” he drew himself nearer to Athyarth’s display and sat himself on the little evened granite stone that Athyarth picks up every morning from the nearby municipal dump yard and places it  back beside the wall in the evening.

                 “Sir, I feel your stars are conspiring against you. You should be careful today”, Athyarth tried to sound as dramatic and convincing as possible. “What sort of conspiring? Please tell me”, Vedyansh sounded perfectly convinced that the stars have gone against him again and since the astrologer was declaring the fact, he has all the proof to blame his failures on the stars. “Please tell me”, he urged Athyarth.

          Athyarth pulled a deck of tarot cards and adeptly placed them at the left corner of the carpet holding them beneath his palm. He then spread them towards the right in a straight line until every card earned a place without overlapping each other. He then stretched his arm and opened the cage. With the least desire to fly away and earn freedom, the parrot walked like a dwarf from the cage. It walked past the seven cards before picking up the eight card, the card of fortune. Athyarth pulled the card from its beak and it walked back to its cage placidly and withdrew itself to the rear end as if the fortune telling was nothing sort of excitement anymore for the little featured one.

              “Sir, this card will tell you you’re fortune”, Athyarth raised his brow and the old age wrinkles that seemed to make him knowledgeable and convincingly adept at his art just disappeared for a little while. “Sir, this card says that you are financially broke with a very little fortune to spare.” It did not require a tarot card to tell that. His bedraggled blue shirt and his black trouser which possessed a good number of stiches and patches screamed for themselves. “Tell me more. Am I going to loose my job? What does the card say?” Vedyansh was more desperate to know his luck today than look at his watch to realize that he was running 15 minute late to office which was going to reflect on his wages.

            “Sir, today you should not give anybody even a dime. It will angry your stars to see you spend today and the only way to avoid the wrath is to donate a fair amount of money to an old Brahmin who owns a parrot”, Athyarth was sure that no other Brahmin in the colony owned a parrot except for him. He made his signs clear enough to plant the thought of donating him a handsome revenue in Vedyansh’s head.

“An old Brahmin who owns a parrot!” Vedyansh murmured. “Who in the colony is an old Brahmin who also owns a parrot”, Vedyansh kept himself involved in his thoughts while Athyarth drew himself to rest against the façade of the tree.

          “Oh! Yes, Muthyarth swami has been recently gifted a parrot by his grandson and I also owe him a fair amount for the financial aid he provided for the repairing of my house”, Vedyansh spoke while starring in to the empty space above Athyarth’s head.

          Athyarth was startled by his murmuring but soon wiped the expression on his face to avoid suspicion of conspiracy. “Yes sir, you must know it better”, Athyarth tried to sound non-differing with the idea.

           “Thank you panditji”, Vedyansh folded his hands in formal Namaste, picked up his bag and pulled himself from the granite stone to walk away.

 “Sir!” Athyarth sounded surprised. “Sir what about my fee?” he was more perplexed than concerned. Vedyansh looked back at him, adjusted his bag strap on the shoulder and blatantly whimpered “Sorry panditji, you have asked me to not spend a dime today. I cannot afford to angry the already wrathful stars for you”. Athyarth could not utter a word but watch Vedyansh walk away.

“Look at the man out there, I am sure he must be low born”. Friday evening and Utkarsh and Tavish were on their way back from office. Bound in their formals, though the perfectness has worn out by the day’s work, they were still logically well dressed. 7 pm it was and their office cab broke down compelling them to take the bus. Packed with passengers from all walk of life they could secure a little space to stand near the back seats ensuring a seat away from Mrudhan, a dowdy dressed middle aged guy who has rightfully settled himself on the seats reserved for the low born.

                            Utkarsh was high born and had his ideals shaped to meet his reputation. He often avoided contact with the low born(s).

                                       More than a century has passed since the walls of castes have fallen but Utkarsh was still holding the pillars strong in spite of his magnificent education and equality speeches that Tavish offers him every now and then.

      The bus jerked to stop and Utkarsh was sucked to the front along with the rest but he managed to avoid a physical contact with Mrudhan.

                                          The bus moved and Utkarsh sprung back to his little space feeling victorious of his avoidance. 8:30 pm and the city looked as pretty as the newly wed bride with the lightings. With a rush of vehicles on road the city looked alive and the delicious aroma from “Karachi Bakery” reminded Utkarsh of his hunger.

                             “Tavish have you still got the bar? I am hungry”, Utkarsh urged while still having a last peep at the Bakery which now was left behind. Tavish drew the bar and Utkarsh adeptly tore the cover and smuggled a piece into his mouth.

                                         Before he could realize, he seemed to have already taken in a big piece and was already coughing his lungs out. He needed water and none seem to have. He was coughing hard now holding the iron bars of seats with Tavish beside him standing helpless. A hand with a bottle made its way from the little mob of the passengers and urged Tavish to take it. Utkarsh peeped up and saw Mrudhan extending his bottle to him. Utkarsh couldn’t forgo the pressing urge for water that he seemed to have finally left the pillars of difference and grabbed the bottle, drank to finally cool his lungs.

                       Yes the pillar of difference has finally fallen and Utkarsh stood there holding the bottle not trying to match his embarrassed eyes with the low born.!!!

      

“Excuse me, which way is to the bus station?” I asked a heavy built man who was all dressed up in the south Indian attire.” Which way…..to the bus station?” I asked him again. 12 pm in the noon and I was all lost in the streets of an old city of Madras. Old city, I guessed, going by the houses and their architecture. Sweating in the heat, breathing hard and all tired of the futile walk to get to bus station, I had a little luggage that I dragged with myself. No other means of transport made itself available and the people at the center couldn't understand my say. The sign boards that read the address, name of shops, were all in the local language and I stood staring at them like a non-literate. Non literate! Like a guy who cannot map himself to any of the gibberish that was written. Trying hard to make sense out of them but failing all the time. Like a mouse trapped in a cheese trap. The words on the sign board were laughing at me! Scared and distorted, I drew myself to the shade of a shop. The words still dancing in my head, screaming, making me all helpless. Helpless! Yes… the most helpless of all creations ever. Helpless because I couldn't fathom the script, couldn't understand them…. Helpless because I couldn't contemplate anything for myself at the moment. Helpless because I felt helpless. I closed my eyes and took a deep breathe.

                                    7 billion people in the word and almost 1 billion of them stand non-literate, I remembered an article on” ILLITERACY RATE”! Whoa, 1 billion, that’s 26% of world’s population, I was amazed by the memory of the facts. 1 billion people who feel helpless every day, every moment, who feel like they are living in the trap, not trying to escape it anymore…. Not trying to free themselves anymore….. Simply because they cannot. 1 billion people who stare at every sign board waiting for it to speak for itself. 1 billion people who feel lost at every step of their life, 1 billion people who are helpless forever and I was worried at my little helplessness? I chuckled at my thoughts! 

(Hey! thanks for reading .... comment, share it if you have liked it)
****(This post has received a lot of reads and numerous comments but since they come as no_replycomments in my mail i am not able to reply to any of them...i am apologetic about it. so guys of everything, i stand indebted of your encouragement and extend a huge thanks for every read.... thank you very much guys and keep reading folks :) )****