POTPOURIE.

 

Sheer resilliance  of the people of India beats me. One of my younger colleagues was telling me about a beggar in Varanasi who sits outside one of the bigger temples and has educated his children so well that one of them is an IAS officer and all his children are doing well but he continues to beg outside the temple .When asked the reason for still continuing to beg , he says that he had earned his livelihood and had educated his children through begging and so he was going to continue to beg for the rest of his life  I am not sure how to respond to that.

In the intricate nooks and corners of the villages in UP one hardly sees good houses.Yet out of these hardy villages where the carpet weavers,daily labourers,the out-caste,the differently abled,the high castes live separated by the boundaries of generations ,are sprinkled highly educated daughter-in-laws  hidden behind the curtains of tradition.Meeta tells me she is a doctrate with a PHD but she is a daughter in law so does not really know anyone about town.On prodding further I learn that she is a lecturer in a college but keeps a low profile.

Regardless of where they come from they go back to their homes and sometimes commute from their homes through kilometres on end,My colleague was telling me about a family which has ninety men living in a joint family.

The other day I met a man with a half open head.His brain pulsating and  was exposed in the open and has been so for the past many years.He was a victim of an acid attack which has taken his eye and the geography of one half of his face.He does his wound dressing himself.From the middle of the cerebrum, on one side ,there is a structure protruding out,most probably a growth.One wonders how he has not succumbed to an infection thus far.

It is a sad story of a war between siblings for land and a third person has come forth and thrown acid at this brother.Out of curiosity I ask after the person who threw the acid and I am informed almost in a matter of fact tone that the person succumbed to a road traffic accident the same night.I stare at the family in despair and doubt.They are dirt poor.The son looks innocent ,well meaning but I see a hood in his father’s eyes.Not sure what it is. Rajani finds them,she walks along with them,wonders for them and often struggles with them.

The other day a couple walked into my OPD with a very peculiar request.The lady was on anti-tuberculous medication and had conceived and had taken an abortifacient but did not bleed so wanted some help with getting rid of the baby.She pushed the abortifacient towards me and it was a pill and the cover read,”Unwanted”.I was deeply disturbed .Just how blatant could one  get?I was talking to them,carefully, when the  stone faced husband sounded apologetic and said that they had been under the impression that the anti-tubercular medication would cause the baby harm and so had decided to take the medication.They have agreed to wait the eight week out for an ultrasound and to go ahead with the pregnancy if all is well.

The picture of Rahul Gandhi swimming with the fishermen in Kerala was refreshing to say the least.It will stay in my mind for sometime.

In the meantime Rajkumar’s artistry in the Barsati garden continues to fascinate me.He seldom looks up,I see him bent and digging whenever I walk by.His face lights up and his face wrinkles into a wide smile when I stop to talk to him about his flowers.He is only too happy to oblige if I ask for help with some of my flowers.The Barsati garden has been named after his father who was the gardener before him.