Let's keep faith

The world, apart from being a magnificent creation: a kaleidoscope of multi-hued facets and melodious to jarring sounds, is also perhaps peopled by beautiful human beings. One doesn’t find them easily, but often bumps into them when one is not really looking.

My faith in humanity was restored in the most satisfyingly, amazing way recently, through people I didn’t know from Adam and Eve, to use a clichéd phrase. Just when I was beginning to think of myself as a misanthrope, there came, out of the blue, literally, or with a certain divinity, a chain of incidents that changed my perspective. In fact, not really changed, but returned it to what it used to be: open, trusting and acceptingly tolerant and well, forgiving.

Just for a lark, I had decided to get henna applied on my hands and arms, as is the practice, in not only many parts of our own country but, also elsewhere in the world. It is considered auspicious and apart from beautifying, it is soothing to the eye. Also, the intricacies involved are as many as there are styles.

Somewhere at the back of my mind I intended, on that particular day to get it done in a different way and also differently. Well to be honest, it wasn’t really for a lark, but because I thought it apt, having reached a certain milestone in life.

The moment I stepped out of home, having no idea where I was headed, I mulled over a few suggestions and asked the auto driver to take me to a particular part of the town, not frequented by many. 

Right from an extremely polite and obliging auto-rickshaw driver, everyone else I met, showed me, in their own way that there was goodness around. But, more than that, it kind of refurbished an old adage, what goes up the chimney comes down. 

As we meandered through the lanes, the driver was extremely helpful in stopping at different points to enquire about the henna. One lady finally directed us to a shop, selling beautiful bangles and accessories. In a land where time is certainly considered money, I was surprised at the amount of time and energy the young shopkeeper invested in getting me the right information, as he made a few calls over his phone. When he realized the immediacy of my need, he did not castigate me or turn down my request, but went to the trouble of talking to his wife and fixing up a place where I could get it done. A tad guilty at taking up his time and also as in India, mornings are for boni (making the first inaugural sale of the day, again considered a good omen), I decided to buy some girl stuff, thanked him and headed for my destination, which I had no idea about.

What I saw thereafter, in every minute detail, made me believe; believe in humanity, believe in a supernatural being or power, whatever one may choose to call it. The entire experience humbled me in so many ways.

As I alighted from the auto, I saw a lady waiting for me; she took the name of the shopkeeper saying, “He must have sent you.” I replied in the positive eagerly and she very hospitably took me up a flight of stairs to an extremely spic and span tiny apartment, it seemed like a one room set-up, as far as I could see.

I sat down on a multi-coloured rug, as the lady informed me that she’d be back in a minute. She returned, in perhaps less than that time with a petite young girl trailing her, with a sparkle in her eyes. The mother proudly introduced her saying, she is my very talented daughter and she will do the needful. I was kind of tongue-tied, wondering how this slip of a girl would/could, do anything as tedious as apply mehndi. “What would you want done,” she chirped. And I said, “Do what you like best, dear.” I did not think it appropriate to bring up the issue of money just then.

Then began our little tête-à-tête and as the design unfolded from her nimble fingers onto my arms and palms, she chattered incessantly and I was floored. This young girl and the family had won my heart. With a few pertinent interjections from me, she elaborated that she had completed her class twelve but, due to ill-health, had discontinued studies. Soon her younger sister and brother who were also studying in school came in to say hello.

The mother hovered around a while, pitching in with how they worked hard to keep the kids in school and how her husband plied a rickshaw, ferrying school children. She explained how they would never ever compromise on their honesty and self-esteem, come hail or shine.  One has heard such mumbo-jumbo often, but not really seen it unspool in trying times. Principled people are not only few and far between, but if being of frugal means does not allow one to succumb to temptation, then it is worthy of praise.

Since both my hands were wet with the fresh beautiful henna, and the heady aroma created a lightness of being, at the end of the entire exercise, I requested the tiny young girl to fish out my wallet from my bag and take whatever money was due. She gingerly took out some crisp notes that according to me were not enough for the labour and the henna included. She smiled and said, you liked what I have done, that is good enough for me…I asked her to put back that amount and take out exactly what I’d say.

She looked confused and very reluctantly agreed to the amount I had quoted. I still felt it was far less than what I wanted to give her, but did not want to insult this brave, self-respecting, young girl. As she walked me down the street to a corner where I would get an auto, she invited me to come back any time and maybe not just for the henna. I pledged to her I would, with fruits and goodies that would perhaps help her tide over some bad health patches. A vain thought perhaps, but a genuine one, as my heart just reached out to her, wanting to help her in any which way.

As I stood in the afternoon sun, waiting for an auto, I saw one take a turn and stop just near me and the driver seemed to admiringly stare at my arms and muttered something. For a minute, I thought I was going to say, stop staring, till I assimilated what he had said. “My daughter must have done this,” he had said, with great pride. And I retorted, “Oh my God I don’t believe this, I was wondering if I’d ever meet you and here you are,” I grinned foolishly, crazily happy. He asked me to hop in, turned the meter down and we cruised back to my part of town. Along the way he told me all the little things he still needed to do for his kids and how he managed to do it all.

The young girl’s words echoed in my mind as she had shared with me how her dad wanted her to do a computer course along with some more vocational training as it would make her self-reliant. How he wanted his younger daughter to study as well as learn sewing as she wouldn’t ever have to depend on anyone, if she didn’t get a good job. How he wanted his son to complete his education and then do a diploma to become a car mechanic. If this was called living within ones means then this was one content happy family.

A couple of years ago I had written an article in the Tribune and in Humanscape, talking about the post 2002 scenario in Gujarat and how certain people had been shunned for just who they were. It highlighted the unnecessary bias and hype that created divides; it talked about the mindlessness that persisted in our society. Then too, as a working journalist, I relentlessly visited an activist friend and his family every single day, on his insistence, just to get a firsthand idea and learn the truth. He was in minority, in a majority area that people were afraid to visit. Perceptions can change if we change….