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Wednesday, December 20, 2006

Saturday stories


Gull politics


It is Saturday and hubby and I are engaged in shopping. We take a break at lunchtime and are sitting on a bench on Petone beach eating hot chips. Soon we are joined by a lone seagull, orange beak, orange feet and orange lined eyes. Hubby throws bits of chips at him and the gull merrily gorges on junk food. We wonder about the fact that he does not even utter a quack to signal to his gull mates that there is food available. But soon another seagull joins us and then the fun begins.

Gull-1 undergoes a transformation. He starts squawking hoarsely and runs after Gull-2, pointed beak open, trying to run him off the place. Now Gull-2 is a smart fellow, he strategically retreats behind the bench where he is content with the bits that hubby throws backwards occasionally. But Gull-1’s squawks have attracted others of his kind and soon we have  a happy crowd of about 10-12 gulls, some of these, we notice, have black feet, beak and kohl-lined eyes. Owing to the fact that these black-eyed beauties are hovering on the fringes, and are smaller in size than the more flamboyant orange eyed-lined fellas, we conclude that the former must be the females.

Gull-1 is now really busy because more gulls are arriving by the minute and he is spending so much time squawking after them and chasing them that he has ceased to notice that bits of food are still being given. In the midst of his squawking and frantic chasing, the newcomers manage to snatch up the food which he has ignored probably with the mistaken belief that he can run all the others off the beach and be the only partaker of the food. Gull-2 at the back has also established his territory and is valiantly defending his turf.

I cannot help think that this is precisely how humans behave too. We are so busy fighting over land and territory that the basic needs of our people get forgotten. There are some countries that probably spend more of their GDP in defence expenditure than in providing food and basic amenities to its people. Even though we know that there are enough resources to feed the whole world, some of us are intent on cornering most of it in a concerted attempt to have more of more totally disregarding the fact that in the process others are getting less of less. When the US went to war in Iraq, they increased their defence budget and guess where the money came from. Some of it came from social welfare, elderly care and basic medical care. They actually cut back spending on these areas.

Sad to think that we are not so highly evolved after all.

~~~

Daane daane par likha hai khane wale ka naam


It is evening and in order to fulfill a greatly felt need for caffeine we stop at a coffee place. We placidly sipping our lattes when Mathew notices that the person at the counter has just thrown a muffin from the tray into the rubbish bin. “Maybe it was damaged, and they didn’t want to sell it”. A short while later we observe that another batch of muffins is being discarded. And then we watch aghast as tray after tray of unsold muffins vanish into the rubbish bin. It is then that we realize that it is closing time and they are throwing away all the unsold food. Our Indian mentality kicks in and we think, what a waste, surely this could have been given to the poor. But where are the poor? The charitable organizations are state-funded and probably wouldn’t need left-over food. What about poor families, new migrants, refugees? We try to work out the logistics involved in taking the food from eateries and carting it to these people. For the amount of labour and time involved we find that for the business owner it is not viable. The amount of food that restaurants, cafés, takeaways discard everyday must be colossal and yet all around the world people go to sleep hungry, die of starvation everyday. 

Kahi daanon par kissi khana wale ka naam nahi hote,
Kissi khane walon ke kismat mein chand daane nahi hote.


~~~

Friday, December 15, 2006

Lambton landscape

Walking down Lambton Quay one bright, warm, sunny afternoon, my senses are flooded with impressions.

People streaming down the sidewalk, dappled sunshine, warm in the sunlight, cool in the shade.

The aroma of coffee, freshly baked cookies, deep-fried fish and chips, curry, canapes, fresh bread, Indian food tinged with banana leaf (olfactory hallucination? Deep-seated desire?)

Baby blue eyes, black sparkling eyes, slanting eyes, sad eyes, sunglassed eyes.

Mothers pushing strollers with babies, mothers pushing strollers with babies in the fathers’ arms, lunchtime family interlude.

'Abra-kebab-ra' selling kebabs, 'Suzette' selling French crepes, 'Chow Mein' selling chow-mein, 'Tastebuds' tempting the tastebuds.

Drooping mouth, kissing-goodbye mouths, cherry-red mouth, sensuously laughing full mouth.

People with pamphlets – ‘Save the children’, ‘Save the forests’, ‘Save the world’.

Flowery skirts, mini skirts, layered skirts, tightly-clinging skirts over swaying legs.

Shop windows beckoning, Christmas trees twinkling, traffic lights turning amber-red-green, steel-glass structures next to elegantly rising churches.

Sautering walk, hurried walk, lazy hip-swinging sexy walk.

Crying children, happily-skipping children, tantrum-throwing children, toddlers gazing fascinated out of mothers’ arms.

Office-goers picnicing on patches of grass, construction workers on scaffolding hammering, lovers walking hand-in-hand.

People waiting at bustops. Waiting for love, waiting for heartbreak. Waiting at the crossing, ‘Don’t walk’, ‘Go’, just like life.

Stockinged feet, tired feet, sandaled feet, spring-in-the-step feet.

Silvery notes of laughter, broken bits of conversation, music pouring from the CD shop, tenor voices raised in carols, meloncholy rising from a one-stringed violin.

A medley of images, smells, sounds impinge on my senses and I come back feeling like I have just visited a painting.

Monday, December 04, 2006

Silence in Haiku




The sound
of hearts breaking
are echoed in silence.

Footfalls of silence
follow
broken dreams.

And yet,
silence also holds
the hint of hope.

Like shards of moonlight,
through black clouds
on the darkest night.