Children selling papers, flowers and toys on a hot, hot day. Some are begging barefoot--their feet must be singed under the burning tarmac. I pass them by in my car--my stomach turns at this slice of India that i see every day on the way to work, where i edit stories about how the ways in which our government squanders money. Why is there unemployment in this country where children always find work? Maybe because they lack the strength to protest being underpaid and overworked. Why do we have such glaring inequality, where a few have SO much and the majority SO little? Is it really true that we do not have enough money to feed, clothe and educate these children? How much does a nutritious meal cost anyway? Ragi, bajra, an egg...how much can that cost? The government has screwed up even the mid-day meal scheme for school children. I do not know the worth of a nation that cannot defend its young...it is just so wrong. The other evening, I saw a well-dressed boy and his parents buying a balloon from a tattered street child who was probably the same age as the buyer. It just made me so sad..sometimes i imagine all the children i worked with in the slums in nice clothes, going to good schools and eating healthy food. Why does that remain an impossible dream? i'm haunted by the memory of the little girl who came and sat outside the closed door of a slum school. The teachers were not available and the door was locked, but she sat there bright-eyed and uncomprehending, waiting to learn.
Friday, October 04, 2002
Thursday
There are some GODAWFUL songs that are inflicted upon mankind like a scourge. You find they are played mind-numbingly wherever you go. Your own brain gives up, turns to mush and you find yourself strangely drawn to the offensive tune, humming it yourself over and over, till you want to blow your own head off. i mean every rickshaw, basti, high society party, radio station will be playing this damn song and lots of seemingly nice people will keep singing along with it, nodding happily to each other. I CANNOT BEAR IT. The latest such song is meri neend by some indian copycat boyband....it is following me everywhere. i put on the tv, there it was, i changed channels. switched on the radio and turned it off because this song came on. Then i get to work and find that the guy who sits behind me is humming it over and over and over. I run screaming yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.
Is it okay to use profanity on a blog? i just cant do it being a journalist and all.....feels weird to say swear in print. i always feel slightly ashamed when i swear...sort of like i'm being too lazy to find the right words to express anger, frustration or whatever else is causing me to scream "@#$%&*" at that moment. or maybe i'm just a prude and i dont have anything better to write about today.
Thursday, October 03, 2002
I am sick of waiting for various workmen to show up at the new house. Today was hot as hell and i just sat there steaming away wondering if the AC man was going to come, if the carpenters were going to come and fix some miniscule chik handle and other such mundane nonsense. Kolangi, the maid, arrived late today. She had to collect some money from bombay central. She came in cursing the heat. So i gave her cold water and then she looked quite tired and said she wanted to do the dishes, sweep and go home. I had been cooking and cleaning before she came and perspiring. Apparently she and lakshmi (beautiful, bright building trash collector) had walked and walked in the heat to collect their savings from some obscure office in mumbai central and they didnt even get it...they have to try and collect it on the 18th. anyway the two are fast friends and ended up laughing about how tired they were. . before they left, i told them to be careful and boil their water at home because there is a malaria epidemic in the city. both the building watchman and his son were in the hospital with it and five people have died in the city from it. I bought mosquito repellent today.
I like them. They have a lot of spirit. I, on the other hand have none today and wish to curl up in a corner like the cat in our building and go to sleep or watch movies all night with my lovely man. there is nothing i like more than that.
I resumed music classes today after having missed a few lessons because of our big move. Lion stayed home to deal with maid, workers, et al and off I went to Matunga. I quite enjoyed seeing the bustling markets, the cows and little shops that sell odds and ends. There is one shop that sells only plastic bags, covers of all shapes and sizes ?! It felt good to sit down and chat with Neela. We drank chai and began singing Raaga Bhimpalaasi. I've discovered each raaga has its own emotion -- dependent on my mood too. But both Neela and I agreed that Bhimpalaasi's was that of an overriding compassion. She has various troubles but I think she forgets it all in music. She told me about her youngest student, six-year-old Tara, who is a bright little fellow bursting with questions. Tara asked Neela, "why are there no songs about diwali? i want to sing about things that i do." This is where classical music can learn to be relevant. Neela sticks to the structure but she makes feminist compositions or simple songs about being free, being close to nature and songs of companionship. I felt a great sense of peace after class today as I made my way back home to the waiting lion and his giant warm hug.
Monday, September 30, 2002
