June 2009 Archives - Kavi Arasu

Its morning. Meenakshi temple at Madurai. We stand outside in the queue. There is a puja on, inside. And we are in the queue. And i watch this man, with a giant ‘fan’ made of peacock feathers.

With one sweeping movement of his old frail hands holding the giant fan, he directs some still air onto sweat drenched devotees.

Young. Old. Rich. Poor. Everybody. For a brief, a very brief moment, are comforted with that muscle powered gust. And i watch. As i have been watching him ever since i was a small kid.

His frail frame gives away the fact that he has kept at ‘fanning’ for a long time. And he keeps at it. Even when nobody was watching. Even when nobody specifically asked for it. His body is frailer. The man himself has become older. The fan, though, with peacock feathers et al is the same.

What must drive the likes of this old man? I don’t know. He doesn’t give a clue.

Its another morning. Madurai. And i walk by this sugarcane juice machine. Its too early for the familiar sugarcane juice vendor. But he will be in. Soon.

To stow in the sugarcane, and give that wheel a strong twist, arching every sinew and causing his biceps to bulge. And of course, some there would be some fresh juice for thirsty throats ! My brother has been a regular here. For 20 plus years.

Ever since the price of sugarcane juice was Re. 1/-. In 20 odd years, the price of sugarcane juice has moved by all of 6 rupees. And the chap is still at it. At the same roadside. Sugarcane. With the same Wheel. And all.

He gives you a good glass full. His glasses are clean. He does not overcharge. He adds that dash of ginger and cuts open those giant ice cubes. To be just right for the juice that you are drinking. Every single time, with a perfection of a 6 sigma factory ! For 20 plus years. Modern day corporate world will dub him strange names.

Thats immaterial. For he is a happy man.

What is material to this post is this : What drives this man? I don’t know. The wheel doesn’t give a clue.

And then these last lines on the memorial rush back to the mind. ‘his love of justice and his kindly heart endeared him to all classes of the community. and thus he bore without abuse, the grand old name of Gentleman’.

There is an elegance in a pioneers work. And theres another elegance in the lives of ordinary men and women. Who go about living this ‘one life’.

And i think. Of that giant peacock fan. And that wheel. And wonder. About life. People. Men. And their drives.

And so you are back.

And so you are back. After many miles of journey. Roads. Hills. Air. Air pockets. Fields. Villages. Malls. And all of that.

You are back to where you live. And you wonder how right they were. When they said ‘time flies’. You feel this time around, time took the expressway !

But then, its still isn’t long off your memory. One look at the 2500 plus snaps clicked over the 15 days, and your mind rejigs and brings to the fore the exact feeling at the moment captured on camera. You realise you itch to tell the world as many stories as there are photographs. And then you choose some in random.

Like this one. When your heart skipped a beat to see a seeming synchronicity in randomly arraigned coconut trees set against a blue backdrop on the banks of a spanking new highway. Made on agricultural land.

Or to see this man pedal his bicycle, with a lady seated behind. And wonder, when last you saw this scene. And then have your taxi driver tell you that these villagers pedal 17 kilometers one way, to reach the nearest hospital. And your eyes auto squint, thinking of life.

Or to see a far away temple set in the middle of banana plantation. And look towards the sky in awe and wonder about this concept of the ‘faith’ ! And think of the tall towers of Meenakshi temple. And then the small precincts of the family temple. And see faith standing on firm foundations.

And then, you saw stern faces stare at you as they traveled in a lorry meant for goods. And think of the stern face & heaps of abuse hurled by the passenger sitting next to you on the flight, because the air hostess didn’t respond ‘in time’

And you think of this boat. By that lake in Berijum. And reaffirm. That nature soothes a lost soul. Like no other.

And as the memory still is fresh and tumble in one after another, you realise. You are back. With new respect. For life. For living. For people. For dreams. For mother Earth. And your own self.

That you saw what others saw. Yet saw what many others didn’t.

And as you type that line, you wonder, if that sounds boastful. And then, you recall conversations with many here. Those stoical faces and ‘ah-there-you-go’ smiles. And you let that line remain.

And you know. You can go on and on. But you realise. You have got to stop somewhere, somehow. You are thankful for many things. And one of them, is for the love of readers of this blog. For that, you realise, you ought to be immensely thankful.

So you quickly end, where it all started. By stating, ‘And so, you are back’.

Drives. Part – II

And so you are back.