It's exam season. For everyone under the age of 18, exam season just got over, but in general, the city's liberal arts colleges' exam season are in full swing. Which is why my creative juices have begun flowing. It's quite strange really. It's only when I've got a Major paper to study for that I'll feel like baking or writing or even dressing up for the fun of it. Judge me nine ways to Sunday for it, see if I give a neat, fuzzy partition of a rodent's rear end.
So anyway, as I was saying. Exam season. Quite an exciting time, really. On one hand, you've got your 'nose-to-the-grindstone' folk, studying well into the wee hours of the morning, early enough to figure out which New Mother overslept, which street dog it is that you'd like for to be put under or even why the city's going through 2 hours of power outages per day - for the streetlamps of course! How else would the women of our city be safe at night? The Moral police need light of course! On the other hand, you've got your 'I'm-not-going-to-be-able-to-have-fun-when-I'm-40' kind. The ones who for all intents and purposes have realised that if you're not going to get credit for the hard work, you might as well just put in just enough effort to get you over the bar. After all, what's the point in slogging and burning your heart out at 20, when you'll have enough time for that in the next 40 years?
Sadly, both kinds miss out on the lesser pleasures in life. Not that I'm calling myself perfect (yet). I'm sure we've all been in situations when an elderly, less fortunate person's just entered the bus, found herself a seat next to PYT and begun a conversation with the said young woman, about all of the former's trials and tribulations... Oh, you haven't? Well, then, let me enlighten you of one such experience I had just last week.
[Enter old woman from rear door of city's deluxe bus that happens to be empty enough to play musical chairs in. Seated at the window seat of the last row of the bus on stage right is a PYT, minding her own business, looking out of the window, barely noticing old woman get into the bus and take seat beside her]
Old Woman (OW) - Ma, where do you get off? Can I sit near the window? I'm not well and I feel like throwing up.
Pretty Young Thing (me) - [thinking : fine, I'm pretty sure you're faking the whole oh-I'm-a-poor-sick-old-maid routine, but I don't want to get puked on] *XYZ stopping* paati. Come, you can sit here. [moves]
OW- Thank you ma. See, I knew you'd get up for me. You're a girl. Only my daughters are looking after me. I never should have given birth to sons. One's an alcoholic and abuses me day and night, while the other is unemployed with a family and expects me to give him money, because he's under my roof. My daughters are only the ones who are taking care of me...
Me- [thinking : oh great, sob story. Do I look like I'm interested, lady? Maybe if I fake not knowing the language, she'll get it? No, that won't work. I replied to her in the same language when she asked me to switch seats. Dammit. Maybe I'll stare out the window and let her drone on. Guess she needs someone to vent to, more then talk to. Staring winsss!]
OW - ... like that, ma. I haven't had anything to eat and still I'm getting loose motion...
Me - [thinking : Must. Control. The. Urge. To. Laugh]
OW - ... just to see the doctor. All the way from Porur. Yes, ma! All the way from there! I went to the house where I work and the house's Amma scolded me for coming to work when I'm sick! She only gave me thousand rupees, put me in an auto and sent me to the doctor. Yes, ma. I'm working only for that Amma. Her daughters-in-law keep yelling at me. But she defends me and puts them into their places. She only paid my husbands medical bills ma. She trusts me and my family that much. 16 years I've been working for her, ma. 16 years!
Me : [thinking : Awkward. I'm actually listening to her. I feel so petty now, my problems are so... insignificant, compared to what she's going through. Great. More self-loathing. Just what I needed. ARGH. PAY ATTENTION TO LESS FORTUNATE PERSON TALKING TO YOU!]
OW - ...jewels. But she trusts only me with the key. Not even her own children. Only me. 16 years and I haven't stolen a single thing. Not even a nose ring. That's what loyalty is. No matter how hard a situation you're in, once you steal, that's all. You lose all respect for yourself. You can't change that ma! You can't live with yourself. Amma takes me with her even when she goes to Banglore. Not just me! My family also comes with me. We have a separate room, with a television, an attached bathroom and everything. She likes only my food ma.
Me - Her children don't look after her?
OW - No ma. They're busy with their own lives. What to do? Ma, isn't it time for you to get off? Don't miss your stopping, ma. You've been listening to this old woman for so long! God bless you.
Me - [ getting up and moving to rear door, thinking : I hope she does okay. Need to let her know that even a random stranger like me is concerned about her. ] Paati, don't forget your medicine.
OW - [smiles brightly from ear to ear ] Don't worry ma. See, I have it in my saree [points to the makeshift pouch in her saree]. Get off carefully, ma. Look properly, be careful ok? [Waves good bye from the window with the warmest smile]
Needless to say, there was obviously more of this conversation. Unfortunately, I was being too much of a pompous prick earlier on in the conversation to pay attention. I did catch her name though. Kalyani Amma. Wherever she is, she changed my life in the biggest way possible. Maybe someone from the family she works for doing chores will let her know how much she made a difference to the way I look at things now.
Maybe all it takes is to listen to someone wearing clothes bearing rambled stains and a mind that could seem like scrambled brains. Initially.
So anyway, as I was saying. Exam season. Quite an exciting time, really. On one hand, you've got your 'nose-to-the-grindstone' folk, studying well into the wee hours of the morning, early enough to figure out which New Mother overslept, which street dog it is that you'd like for to be put under or even why the city's going through 2 hours of power outages per day - for the streetlamps of course! How else would the women of our city be safe at night? The Moral police need light of course! On the other hand, you've got your 'I'm-not-going-to-be-able-to-have-fun-when-I'm-40' kind. The ones who for all intents and purposes have realised that if you're not going to get credit for the hard work, you might as well just put in just enough effort to get you over the bar. After all, what's the point in slogging and burning your heart out at 20, when you'll have enough time for that in the next 40 years?
Sadly, both kinds miss out on the lesser pleasures in life. Not that I'm calling myself perfect (yet). I'm sure we've all been in situations when an elderly, less fortunate person's just entered the bus, found herself a seat next to PYT and begun a conversation with the said young woman, about all of the former's trials and tribulations... Oh, you haven't? Well, then, let me enlighten you of one such experience I had just last week.
[Enter old woman from rear door of city's deluxe bus that happens to be empty enough to play musical chairs in. Seated at the window seat of the last row of the bus on stage right is a PYT, minding her own business, looking out of the window, barely noticing old woman get into the bus and take seat beside her]
Old Woman (OW) - Ma, where do you get off? Can I sit near the window? I'm not well and I feel like throwing up.
Pretty Young Thing (me) - [thinking : fine, I'm pretty sure you're faking the whole oh-I'm-a-poor-sick-old-maid routine, but I don't want to get puked on] *XYZ stopping* paati. Come, you can sit here. [moves]
OW- Thank you ma. See, I knew you'd get up for me. You're a girl. Only my daughters are looking after me. I never should have given birth to sons. One's an alcoholic and abuses me day and night, while the other is unemployed with a family and expects me to give him money, because he's under my roof. My daughters are only the ones who are taking care of me...
Me- [thinking : oh great, sob story. Do I look like I'm interested, lady? Maybe if I fake not knowing the language, she'll get it? No, that won't work. I replied to her in the same language when she asked me to switch seats. Dammit. Maybe I'll stare out the window and let her drone on. Guess she needs someone to vent to, more then talk to. Staring winsss!]
OW - ... like that, ma. I haven't had anything to eat and still I'm getting loose motion...
Me - [thinking : Must. Control. The. Urge. To. Laugh]
OW - ... just to see the doctor. All the way from Porur. Yes, ma! All the way from there! I went to the house where I work and the house's Amma scolded me for coming to work when I'm sick! She only gave me thousand rupees, put me in an auto and sent me to the doctor. Yes, ma. I'm working only for that Amma. Her daughters-in-law keep yelling at me. But she defends me and puts them into their places. She only paid my husbands medical bills ma. She trusts me and my family that much. 16 years I've been working for her, ma. 16 years!
Me : [thinking : Awkward. I'm actually listening to her. I feel so petty now, my problems are so... insignificant, compared to what she's going through. Great. More self-loathing. Just what I needed. ARGH. PAY ATTENTION TO LESS FORTUNATE PERSON TALKING TO YOU!]
OW - ...jewels. But she trusts only me with the key. Not even her own children. Only me. 16 years and I haven't stolen a single thing. Not even a nose ring. That's what loyalty is. No matter how hard a situation you're in, once you steal, that's all. You lose all respect for yourself. You can't change that ma! You can't live with yourself. Amma takes me with her even when she goes to Banglore. Not just me! My family also comes with me. We have a separate room, with a television, an attached bathroom and everything. She likes only my food ma.
Me - Her children don't look after her?
OW - No ma. They're busy with their own lives. What to do? Ma, isn't it time for you to get off? Don't miss your stopping, ma. You've been listening to this old woman for so long! God bless you.
Me - [ getting up and moving to rear door, thinking : I hope she does okay. Need to let her know that even a random stranger like me is concerned about her. ] Paati, don't forget your medicine.
OW - [smiles brightly from ear to ear ] Don't worry ma. See, I have it in my saree [points to the makeshift pouch in her saree]. Get off carefully, ma. Look properly, be careful ok? [Waves good bye from the window with the warmest smile]
Needless to say, there was obviously more of this conversation. Unfortunately, I was being too much of a pompous prick earlier on in the conversation to pay attention. I did catch her name though. Kalyani Amma. Wherever she is, she changed my life in the biggest way possible. Maybe someone from the family she works for doing chores will let her know how much she made a difference to the way I look at things now.
Maybe all it takes is to listen to someone wearing clothes bearing rambled stains and a mind that could seem like scrambled brains. Initially.
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