The tiny palms & Red roses!

It was a nice bright sunny morning, the streets of Mumbai was rising up for starting another hustling-bustling day. The traffic on the road was increasing with the rising of Sun, the honking of the cars were completely covering up the sweet chirping sound of the birds, the smoke from the car wrapped up the smell of fresh morning breeze, and the shouts of the hawkers on the road actually would make you forget about the word-peace, in any dictionary of the world.
Amidst, this proven confusion of the city, running between the cars on the traffic signal of Andheri, east, was Farhan. Farhan was a well-experienced rose-seller on the road. He knew all the trick of his trade and the sales strategy. He would notice his target customers sitting in the Auto or in a car within seconds. His, approach and salesmanship was highly commendable and can under shine any successful, business, sales and marketing people in the corporate world. But, Farhan was not a man living on this earth for ages. He was not even a decade old! He was just a six years old orphan, trying to live! I came to know about his name, when one day another boy may be a year and a decade old called him, just to warn him of the signal light turning green!

I, along with thousands like me took the same way to office everyday and we found this dark, dirty, bare-footed urchin running from one car to another vehicle with some rose bunches which he could manage to hold in his small palms. It seemed that he tried to hold up his own world with those tiny hands of his, which God made for being held by an adult and shown the beautiful life. His big, bright eyes had a certain innocent spark in it; that was sure to melt anyone's heart! I used to see some people buying the flowers from him- either they actually needed it, or may be because his eyes did the trick. As I said earlier, he was a great Salesman, maybe it was this eyes of his that did the trick for him.

But, sometimes, I found people pushing him hard, uttering foul words or just trying to ward him away from their cars- thinking that his dirt might catch them, or dirty their cars! Seeing, this I ask myself- If people try to clean themselves and keep themselves so clean, then why cannot they clean the society first in which we live? Why can’t they restrain people from societal dirt like: child labour and illiteracy? Before, I could think of any answer or I could think of any solution, the signal starts and I am back into my own world- the daily race for earning my bread and trying to be a part of the virtual race of winning!

His clothes sometimes changes from a red torn T-shirt to sometimes an oversized yellow shirt or sometimes a discoloured torn vest! But, though his change in clothes shows he takes a bath, but he never appears clean. May be because he belongs to the unclean part of our society.

One day, I took out a ten rupees note and gave it to him. He smiled at me and gave me a bunch. From, his smile a sigh of satisfaction could be measured. It was a sign of two kinds of satisfaction; one, his palms can rest of some weight and he got some money to live for the day! I took the bunch and found some wilted roses peeping through the printed transparent paper with which the bunch is tied. The wilted rose, reminded me of the sadness, struggle and hardship that has truly wilted the six-year old creatures life. Life is considered to be the gift of god; Gifts are thought to be preserved as a memento of love and appreciation forever. Then, it always haunts in my mind the reason of such a marked difference in the life given to a six year old child travelling in a car, getting good nutritious food to eat, the best up-bringing and on the other hand, there are creatures like Farhan, running behind the cars, for some money so that they can live in their life.

Farhan, the next day also approached my rickshaw with a smile and a similar hope of getting a ten rupee note for passing another day! Initially, I thought of over-looking him, but, I guess, his hypnotic salesmanship did not allow me to do so! Hence, I took my purse out and gave him the money, in return he again gave me another bunch and a smile of satisfaction that gradually started becoming a peace-maker in my otherwise stressed urban life.

Every day, my expenses increased by ten rupees but in return I not only got someone giving me the favourite flowers everyday but also I got a chance of seeing an innocent, unselfish clean smile of satisfaction on a child’s face (I think this can never be bought with money).

Like this a few weeks passed and then few months went-by. I had developed a certain connection with him, Farhan. The connection was an untold human relationship, the human connection of Humanity! In my office, gossips, fumed from all over! Some, started seeing me with green-eyes thinking that I get roses of appreciation from my newly married husband, but some with their super-imaginative mind started developing a story of me having an extra-marital affair, due to which I always look so calm and satisfied while entering the office with the red roses in my hand, whose red shine dazzled across my pink cheeks.

But, only I knew, that yes, those people were true in some way, I am the happiest in my life, because I am having an affair- but, not with any other person but with Humanity, that has the serene power of transforming all my sadness into joy.

The relationship between me and Farhan grew stronger. He started calling me “Didi”, though I can never imagine any of my brothers staying the way he lived- but my relationship with him was not of blood but it was a human connection that bonded two of us- who were miles apart from each other, in terms of social status.

Every day, when I got down from the local train at the Andheri station my mind forgot about the usual confusion and rush in the station, it immediately used to get caught into the thought of meeting Farhan. I used to eagerly await the smile to bestow happiness and the smell of the roses to cherish another day of my life.

The black Friday…

I was heading towards office as usual; my leaping heart started jumping like a young colt when I neared the signal, where I was due for meeting my Farhan. But, that day, the sweet smile was not seen, I did not smell the roses. There was a some kind of unseen unheard and untold silence, grief that was covering the signal amidst the honking! I missed him. The whole day in office, I kept thinking about him. It was a custom of mine for the last few months to replace the days old rose bunch with a fresh new bunch that would keep me alive for the day (and make me feel of accomplishment-as a good humane deed was behind it). But, today I found amidst all the normal work a vacuum within my heart. A certain kind of untold sadness that was making me restless. I was unable to concentrate in office so decided to go home early. On my way back, I tried to console my heart. I believe our heart is the dumbest part of the whole body and the scariest as well, so, we need to always make it believe that nothing is wrong around us, then the kind of courage gets generated that one can win the world war single-handedly!

Though, I tried to console my heart, but still it cheated me and kept searching for Farhan, at the signal - he was not there. The next day too, the vacuum prevailed as I missed seeing the smiling jovial face amidst the traffic.

Days kept passing. It was a week since I did not meet him. Then, again it was another Friday, when I reached the traffic signal, on my usual way to office. I met a known face. It was the older boy who once called Farhan, while he was in the middle of traffic. I immediately signaled at him and asked him to come close to my rickshaw. While he made his way through the traffic and approached me, my I could feel the thumping heart, every thump was getting louder and stronger as I was nearing to the hope of knowing where my little friend, my brother, my happiness, my Farhan has gone. He came to me and I asked him about him. He looked down, and then he looked up with his eyes filled with water. With trembling lips he said- Farhan is dead! I could not hear it or I heard it, but could not believe it! How, can this happen? How can the little soul become so heavy for the earth to dwell upon? How can God take him away from here? The boy again repeated it! “Yes, Madamji, Farhan is dead”. I stopped my rickshaw, at the side, and rushed out of it, since I wanted to know the incident. He told me, that as usual he was running between the traffic, trying to catch hold of any buyer, when a speeding bus from behind broke the signal and rammed him over. The little heart and his little body was already under such tremendous pressure of life, and on that the bus was too heavy for him to survive. My heart ached thinking about those small palms that once held flowers, those big eyes the sparked through the traffic and the innocent smile that was sure to brighten-up the darkest corner of the world. I wished to be with Farhan. I wanted to bring him back on earth. But, I cannot. I have lost him. The traffic kept moving as usual. The noise kept rising as usual. The loss of the child went-by in the city unnoticed. I could not work for the

whole day. I longed to be with him for sometime more on this earth. I could not come out of the loss for days after that. Every time, I closed my eyes the little soul use to come and stand before me with those red roses in his tiny palms. I wanted to hold those palms and let him enjoy Life. But, Farhan was gone!

After a year…

After almost a year, though Farhan occupied a deep corner of my heart, still my life went on, as priorities were demanding me to go ahead! I got the good news that I was carrying. The moment the doctor broke the news to me, my mind thought of Farhan. After nine months another creature, with tiny palms arrived in my life. He held my finger the way Farhan used to hold the rose bunches in the signal. I felt as if God has sent him back for me. For me to make him see, the beautiful life that he was missing. I could not hold myself back, but call him Farhan! I got him back in my life. Now, we also have a blood relation.

THE THREAT TO THE PEACE AMBASSADORS

In the country's most busiest city lying on the western coast, we the dwellers have almost forgotten about the existence of one very quiet, silent community, that migrated from Iran and had settled centuries ago, and now, can be identified as the true "Mumbaikars" just like other natives of the place.

I am talking about the Parsi community.

They migrated majorly from Iran, after the persecution of Muslims on Iran. They, majorly settled in Mumbai( Dorabji Nanabhoy, was the first Parsi to settle in Mumbai in 1640) and some also picked up Gujrat as their next motherland for generations to follow. The two basic languages spoken by them are: Persian & Gujrati. The community strongly believed in the method of following a "closed-community system". In this, they married within the community and also settled in specified colonies. This had finally led to their existence over the centuries.

But, now the threat is all over this community! According to recent Indian census there is about 9% decline in the population of the community every decade. This can lead to only twenty-three thousand parsis existing in India by the year 2020.

WHY IS THIS?..

It is majorly because of two reasons:
Genetic cause- most of the parsis have a late marriage that leads to lesser chances of producing their off-springs.
Social cause- In the modern world of globalisation most of the young parsis look beyond their community for choosing their life partner and in this bargain they are loosing out on their community's identity. If this trend goes on, then just like the number 1411(read, number of tigers left in India), Parsis too, will be identified by numbers.
The only thing that creates a concern within my heart and an untold pain for this community is that, it is always believed God blesses those who are harmless to mankind. Then, I must say, this is the most harmless community in the whole of human mankind, right from the inception of human society on this earth. Still then, they were thrown out of their country in Iran, they never retaliated, they silently accepted and migrated to another place. In their new place of living, they had been more honest than any other Indians, living. They do not posses any record for inception of communal disharmony or spreading violence.Still they are exposed to threats of existence from all-over.

Mostly, the Parsis have there own business, of export-import, or hotels and bakeries. They celebrate two festivals of their community with lots of grandeaur. The Parsi new year and the Navroze. Both these festivals, leads to luxurious feasts attended by freinds and family. There place of worship, is the "Temple of Fire" where they worship Fire god. If the religion, the common practices and beliefs of the community is studied then, one can trully experience the "Art of living in Peace". But, I must say, the world had trully prooved that though we may be having innumerable Peace rally going on across the world but, its true existence is not acceptable here.

The other day I was reading in the newspapaer about their "Tower of Silence" where, after the death the dead bodies are supposed to be kept for the scavengers to feed on them. It might sound to be a very cruel practise, but, if you think about the reasons then we can understand that even after death the Parsis never forget to serve the society. They give their body to nature for maitaining its ecological cycle.

But, their is a a grave danger again mounting on this peacefull community! The number of scavengers in the city have decreased remarkably in the city, hence, in their tower, they cannot expect their dead bodies getting used by the scavengers. Their body suffers even then. They lie half-eaten and rotten! Their soul keeps suffering after death aswell. For them, the last word uttered" May the soul live in peace" can never seem to be true.So, this small write-up of mine is just amalgamation of few words to indicate the urgency of saving the community that is perishing! The whole world needs to work towards it and show the Parsis, that it is not only them who are the true Peace ambassadors on earth, We too, are!

City- Alive!

It was 17th February,2008, when I first landed on this tinsel town, on this business capital of India- MUMBAI.
From the first day, this city struck the correct chord of connection with me, and I never felt like an outsider to it. I used to feel that I was a daughter of this land just born and grown somewhere else, and now it was the time for me to come and embrace my city that was promising me to give me my ever searching-Identity of life.
Mumbai, being is on the a coastal area, so its weather is as pleasant as the attitude of the people living here. Though, I was born and brought up in another metropolitan city, but this city had its own metropolitan characteristics, which no other cities of India can compare. It surpasses every other cities' way of thinking, pace of life, standard of living, Celebrations, Joy, Happiness and also grief and sadness.The avarage area of Mumbai is over six hundred square kilometers, and the average size of it's heart is unmeasurable! Every morning the city wakes up with a warm smile and an open arms, welcoming every new person and helping them to achieve the life, they hope, pray or cry for!
Though, because of its overpopulation we find most of us, the city-dwellers complaing about the number of people living here. But, has anybody thought of realising- that, the over-crowded local trains, the packed-up buses and the hustle-bustle on the streets are also evident about another fact, about the city, it is living. Every corner of the city is always alive. In every corner of the town we can find human emotions dripping down and love oozing out!
There is a very old study, which says, Humans are social animals, they need a community,that is, groups to survive! Then, if that is true, I really don't understand why people here is complaining. This city, has the biggest, widespread and varied community living cordially. If humans trully require a society to live, then, Is it that the community is not made-up of humans or Is it that the people complaining about the cities social structure are not humans? Think about it...