The ‘If Only’s of daily life

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The city is dry, parched, thirsty for rain.  The colours of March are long gone.

The red, pink and the occasional purple geraniums and the orange nasturtiums have given way to greyish green leaves that fall ever too soon to the ground only to be raised by the hot winds from the west in a dusty swirl.

The Met department had predicted rains on Thursday evening. The clouds dutifuly gathered on the horizon darkening the evening skies and encouraging many a hopeful city dweller. But like the promises that are made but never kept, they floated away almost as quickly as they had come.

And we woke up Friday morning to yet another dry, dusty, hot day looming ahead of us.

This doesn’t seem to have deterred the forever hopeful met department from cheerfully making more enthusiastic predictions of rain for the weekend!

 

I often wonder how many of us are actually thankful for the constant supply of cool fresh water that (still!!) flow out of our taps all throughout the 24 hours of the day. And the electricity that keeps our air-conditioning running.

There are hundreds and thousands out there for whom these are  luxuries they can only dare imagine.

Like that group of impish little children at the inetersection a little distance away from my hospital. On regular days, they’d diligently pester each driver to buy whatever trinklet they were taking turns to sell in the few minutes till the light turned green or they got shooed away. Since the past two weeks, however, they’ve taken to asking for cold water.

It makes me incredibly sad….

 

It is amazing how cruel as a race we humans have become!

The other day I had a passionate verbal altercation with Mr.X ( For the lack of a better term, I call him my colony-mate)

X is of the opinion that the water bowls that the likes of me leave on the footpath outside our colony gates attract stray dogs, which are a menace to the humans. According to X, helping animals is ‘ fine and fashionable’ but humans are a far superior race and when it comes to the interests of humans, animal needs are to be sacrificed.

Hence the water bowls must go!

 

To say that the likes of him awakens my primitive destructivel instincts would be an understatement!

Leaving aside water bowls and stray dogs, it escapes me how a person can go through life living with a notion of such audacious superiority!

Of course it is entirely a wastage of one’s energies to reason with such a man about the number of thirsty living creatures ( in addition to the dogs that he hates) that would drink out of a small bowl of water – the small squirrels, birds, a line of bees that always line the rim and sip water unmindful of the crow that drinks from the same bowl, perched on the other side of the rim.

But I being me, did not let the opportunity pass by and mercilessly imparted a good amount of education on the necessity of being kind to ‘all living creatures great and small’, much to the chagrin of X.

The result?

He now pretends to be busy with his phone, the button on his cuff or the imaginary speck of dust on his shirt  whenever I ( or anyone remotely resembling me, I’m sure) cross his path..!

Instead he has taken to admonishing the security guards for filling the water bowls!

I wonder if it is the kindness that these simple uneducated men carry in their hearts, or my threat that I’ll call animal-abuse groups if anyone dares hurt these dogs that make them ignore Mr.X.

Anyway, for now, the arrangement is working!

The bowls have remained where they are. In spite of Mr.X!

 

 

 

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Note to Self – 1

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Confessions:

I haven’t written anything yet and it’s almost 10 pm.!

There are currently three books in my Amazon cart!

My 500 ml water bottle is half full still!

I forgot to get lunch YET again!

Read just two pages today of the third book I started this month!

But YES! I haven’t been on FB all day.

Middle aged nights

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2:41 AM, 10 Jan 2016

The night is ‘middle aged’.. .slipping into a comfortable peace and quietitude that’s missing in its  youth..

Our city nights…the occasional airplane flying past, distant whistle of a train passing, nightly trucks picking up speed they’re denied during the day, soulful music floating from afar…someone finding a lost love story on the radio or just the night guard  trying to keep himself awake..

These are vulnerable, these hours….
But it is an honest vulnerability. ..peaceful, naked, truthful like a child..

I don’t  like our ‘young nights’. Here in this concrete jungle, there’s  nothing like a young night. They’re just extended busy evenings…noisy, rushed, squeezed into hours before ‘sleep time’.
Busy hours trying to accomodate everything that was lost during the day’s rush to achieve whatever everyone’s out to achieve – every single day..!

I don’t  like the ‘old nights’ either.
They’re too close to dawn…too close to light and the fear of revelation.
Too close to the hours everyone pulls out their masks. …including me.

May be, finally, I’ve deciphered why I’m a 3 AM person!