Observing Those Around

As though he belonged to another planet and showed up every morning in a discoloured shirt with frayed collar and the thinned sleeves rolled up, and a towel which bore the mark of being old and frequently used, his cracked feet in some Bata bathroom slippers. Every morning after the temperature had shot up quite high he appeared on the dust-covered street only to stand in front of an iron gate painted black.

There were tens of iron gates along the street and the one where he showed every morning is no different the rest. But before each gate there were always parked vehicles especially designed for Indians and at the one where he appeared two moped covered in dust always parked.

He squeezed himself between the mopeds and stood leaning against the gate and then getting hold of the latch he began banging it, soon a lean man bearing the same features in grey trousers and old shirt came out to unlock the gate for him. They said nothing to each other, but exchanged glances, then the person disappeared.

Behind the wall sound of running water could be heard,then it stopped and the man was seen at the open gate in the same towel but shirtless stooping over the ground with a broomstick. In haste he swept, the plastic refuse flew out and the dust billowed ,and soon they all settled between the parked moped.

His hand inserted the broom stick between the mopeds and now pushed the dust and plastic through the vehicles and when they had reached the street he halted his labour and abruptly turned on his heels and disappeared for a while.

It is natural for my neighbours to push out their refuse as far as the street, to them the street belonged to some invisible figure who will automatically swallow up everything they push out.

In the later part of the day the neighbour next to this shirtless figure would busy himself cleaning his house and over the gate ,bearing swastika and a string of green chilli and lemon ,delivered by a lady in return for the cooking oil he uses as offering, all kinds of refuse would fly out only to give the part of the street around his gate another layer.

As though he had just swept the area for a particular purpose, he plodded lugging a plastic bucket filled to the brim with water, then he rushed back to get a plastic mug and a cake of soap. Squatting by the bucket his hands began to work; he threw some water over his head and picked up the greenish soap to smear on his head and then at great speed he ran the soap over the arms. The lather stayed for a while as he was busy rubbing his ankles and heels, and when another mug of water was poured over it ran over the untouched back. He repeated this process few more times and then stood up. He was done with his morning ritual without even rubbing his back.

Leaving the almost empty bucket he rose with half wet towel dripping water and went in , and this time he came out carrying a broomstick with bamboo bristles. He ran it over the wet surface and hurried back.

For a while no one was seen at the open gate, soon a boy of ten or eleven appeared with his hands behind the nape of his neck, his mouth wide open, apparently yawning, he turned around to mutter some words and then managed his way out between the vehicles, then a girl slightly older and taller than the boy showed up and looked at the direction where the boy headed, she gesticulated with her hands, probably trying to communicate with the boy.

No one was on the street, nor any soul at the open gate with wet floor. The towel man re-appeared in a light blue uniform and stood ,he was joined by the man who had opened the gate for him.

They communicated in sign language. Only when the another man stood long enough at the gate I realised he was the tailor who had a shop near the Marwari brothers' grocery shop.

The concrete walls of his dingy shop are behind ceiling-to-floor rusted shelves filled up with electrical products of old incandescent Philips bulbs and wire coils with their tips dangling down long enough to be visible to the passersby.

In early evening his shop was swarmed by retired people who had not achieved anything in their lives ,except for producing a generation of married people whose children filed the street.

He was at work while the television was on and those who gathered in his shop always watched cricket, in India cricketers play more than three hundred and sixty-five days a years.

So these old people who had accomplished reproduction and now living off rents gathered and cracked meaningless jokes and when they wanted to make them more macho they threw in swear words which are quite common in North India. There were also time when they were joined by teenage boys from the neighbourhood, the boys said very few, and when they first showed up they were deferential ,and then they began rattling in swear words to impress the elders. The tailor was the only person who had nothing to rent out, but he liked the fact that while he was at work people came and sat around him, a sign that he was liked.

Few decades back this was just some third-rated place and the university was academically too remote to be placed on the same par like those in other metros, but changes occurred forcefully and undeserving huge funds were poured in and forcefully it was pulled up and placed among the elite universities, in India.

This apparently began to draw in students and people from all across the country and soon a dingy and slum-like place like this became the attention of the arrivals.

Those refugee-turned-residents who had merely been eking out their livelihoods by selling junks and ordinary things now were being approached by outsiders and offered double the amount of what they could make in a month.

A family living in a double-storeyed house was encouraged to do some topping by installing another floor or may be more later , and then more boxes which are as hot as microwave ovens. Since they created these toppings out of pure greed and also in great haste, the houses are without proper ventilations and concern for safety.

My landlord ,who could be mistaken for a sixty years old despite the fact that he is in his early forties, loves topping. His double-storeyed now is turned to a five-storeyed building.

People like my landlord who could do topping left the place and moved into some place where they have emancipated guards standing at the gate. They show up only when they are required to otherwise they let the real estate agents handle everything. But those who have stayed behind, like the tailor, are the people who didn't think about topping their houses and when some calculative people came and bought their upper floor they realised they should have done the topping just like others.

As three brothers cannot share a three-roomed house, the dumb sleeps in the nearby temple where he works, the tailors sleeps in the living room, but youngest among them ,married with three children, the eldest a juvenile delinquent ,takes up the innermost room and the kitchen.

After the dumb had showered and jumped into a blue colour uniform and hurried out from the house since he doesn't belong to the place. As soon he left his tailor brother emerged around the gate with the same bucket and squatted by it in his underwear to give himself a wash, then he was seen in his shop.