Two little girls

There are quite a few huts just outside my office, all of them inhabited by - I believe - a single community of Gujarati tribals.

Typical of such settlements, these huts too have the usual assortment of drunk men, screaming women, dirty kids, crap on the road etc. All the usual elements that make 'people like us' crinkle our noses, look in the other direction and walk away. Even when people stop to give their leftovers or alms, it is a sight to see them holding the leftovers at an arm's length.

Amidst all this, two little girls catch my attention daily. Aged possibly 6 and 3, they are possibly among the most adorable girls one could see. Fair (not a criterion for beauty in my sight, but am mentioning it as a differentiator among slum kids one sees who get tanned by being exposed to the sun the whole day), glowing skins, bright eyes, really cuddly like soft toys. And generally pretty clean!

Like most slum kids, they have the most carefree smiles, which adds immensely to their entire demeanour. Give them a nice bath, dress them right, and I challenge any human with a beating heart not to pick them up, cuddle them, hold them close and bless them.

Every time I look at them, I wonder about their future. What would happen to them as they grow up in that environment? All sorts of questions, all sorts of worries crowd my mind.

Sometimes I also wonder if it is possible to take them away and bring them up with my own children. Or maybe get them a good foster home. Give them a chance at a bright future.

And then I think - is it right to separate them from their parents? Maybe, my view of a bright future is a product of my environmental conditioning; and they may wither in that. Possibly, where and how they stay are their roots. Maybe God wanted them to be the wild flowers they are, and not the ornamental flowers in the four walls of a house.

Also, all those other 'societal' thoughts - how will their parents react if I talk to them; what will other people say; can I really take care of them; will - by opening their cocoons, I'll end up killing the butterflies inside?

But then, maybe again, maybe God has raised this paternal feeling in me to be the catalyst for a change in their lives...

Questions, thoughts, confusions. What do I do?

An Open Letter to Arif Naseem Khan

Mr. Arif Naseem Khan
Suburban Guardian Minister
Mumbai

I read with a great sense of anguish about your rebuke to the RTO officials who conducted the raid on autorickshaw drivers who tamper with their meters.

You as a minister are expected to uphold the law and the moral fibre of the city and constituency you represent. And yet, here you are, reprimanding officials who are doing their job, and taking the side of professional strike callers and cheats.

Isn’t the very fact that 97 out of 150 rickshaws tested a clear indicator of who is at fault?

Have you, Mr. Minister, personally travelled as an ordinary citizen in an autorickshaw and seen what the public has to put up with?

Your statement, “RTO officials can initiate action against illegal meter shops but they must stop unnecessarily harassing rickshaw drivers” reeks of - well, let me not express it in words! But the next time the traffic police conducts any checks on drunk drivers, I believe they would say, “Raid the bars and liquor shops, don’t harass us”.

Your other statement, “We all know what happens at RTO offices and how things work” is another gem!

Your statements tell me simply that you are aware of “what happens” and yet, you have shirked in your duty as an elected representative of the people. In a private organisation, you could have been sacked for such wilful negligence of duty, but it is a travesty and a joke of our democratic process that you would be elected again and again!

Mr. Khan, take my word for it; go and praise the RTO officials, encourage them to do their work without fear or favour, ensure that errant autorickshaw drivers are punished. You would get more votes this way. After all, that is what you want, isn’t it?

Yours sincerely,

Mubin Khan

Travel Light with the King of Good Times

I have always travelled light. And lately, being what airlines euphemistically term a ‘frequent flyer’, I have made it even lighter. I have a trusted Samsonite made to cabin baggage specifications which I dump my clothes and papers in, stretch the laptop bag across its handle and I am ready to go. Saves me a lot of time after alighting.

In the past few months, I have travelled on every single airline available in India, and have never been asked to check in my bag, except for three times. And I realise that it is the same airline – Kingfisher – every time.

The tone is the same – polite, turning politely threatening. “Sir, it is my advice to you Sir. It is better for you Sir”, “Sir, I shall put a priority tag Sir”, “Sir, you will have to keep it in front of your seat, and you will be uncomfortable Sir”, “Sir, I am trying to help you Sir, the cabin crew will keep it in the hold while you are boarding Sir”.

Once, when I agreed because they put a priority tag, my bag was almost the last to come out!

What I found most interesting was that all the three times, they gave me different reasons for wanting to check in my bag.

The first time, the person said that the flight was full, and there may be no space in the luggage bin.

The second time, she said that the flight was small and my bag would not fit!

But I think the reason I got just now takes the cake!

I am told that the flight is completely full and the bag would be too heavy, and the cabin crew might offload it!

Huh!!!

Too heavy for me to carry, but okay to put it in the hold?

I am awaiting boarding, as I write this, and eager to know how they will accommodate this ‘heavy’ bag.

Happy Teacher’s Day

It’s Teachers Day tomorrow, and I’d like to take this opportunity to wish all teachers a Very Happy Teacher’s Day.

A lot of teachers have influenced me, and shaped the way I am today. Right from my school teachers to my Professors – Prof. Sudhakar, Prof. Dabholkar, Prof. Dharkar, Prof. Shetty, Prof. Borde, Miss Irani and so many others – my heartfelt gratitude and thanks to each and every one of you!

I’d also like to pay tribute to all of you by writing about three very special teachers, who I probably will never forget till the day I pass on.

First - Mrs. Agnihotri: My Marathi teacher in Rosary High School. Marathi is a subject most students – especially those studying in English convent schools – love to hate! But it was Mrs. Agnihotri who made me love this language.

She was in her 50s when she first taught us the language. Short, possibly just four feet nothing, with a back that was bent with age, she could reach only up to the bottom one-fourth of the black-board (which was later replaced by a green one). Maybe I am dreaming, but there were times when the chalk dust would fall on her glasses and she had to stop writing to clean them.

She insisted on speaking to us only in Marathi, and God help those who could not respond to her with proper grammar and pronunciation. Interestingly, I realized that it was the students having Marathi as their mother tongue who used to be at the receiving end most of the time.

Strange, but isn’t it true? The people who are worst at the grammar of any language are the people who profess it to be their mother tongue. I reckon that is because they tend to pick up the language as it is spoken ‘on the streets’ rather than in its pure form.

Anyway, I digress, as usual!

Mrs. Agnihotri introduced me to P. L. Deshpande, to spoken Marathi. She is the reason I get compliments for a good command over the language.

Thank You, Agnihotri bai!

Second – Mrs. Suzie Chacko: Possibly the best teacher a student can get! She taught us science in school. We used to fondly call her ‘Amma’ (mother). And a mother she was to us. It is nearly 3 decades since I saw her last (she had apparently left the school a few years after I passed out, to join her husband in Dubai, so I was told) but I still can see her vividly whenever I close my eyes and think about her. Dark, plump, speaking with the typical Malayalee accent, it was her eyes that first caught your attention. The eyes would smile when she was happy with us, and breathe fire when we were at fault.

I also know that a lot of students hated her. And they had a reason for that. They hated re-writing. You see, Amma had a unique style of teaching. In the 35 minute science class, she would spend the 6^th to the 30^th minute explaining the concepts of physics, chemistry and biology to us. And God help anyone trying to do anything except pay full attention to her. Asking questions, debating a point, arguing over a concept – all was allowed, even encouraged. But sharpening pencils, taking notes, doing something else invited a rap on the knuckles and kneeling at the door of the class.

The 31^st to the 35^th minute was for dictating notes very fast, which the students had to write down using their pencils.

That leaves us with the 1^st to 5^th minute. Ahh, now that was the fun!

The notes that she dictated in the previous class had to be re-written using the ink pen, with all the proper drawings etc. as homework. The handwriting and the drawings had to be perfect. These would be checked in the first five minutes of the next class. And any student who did not complete this homework had raps on the knuckles and had to attend the class kneeling at the door for the entire duration.

Not only did Amma instil a love of chemistry in me (which was later fanned by Profs. Dabholkar, Dalal, Shetty, Borde, Miss Irani et al in college) that lasts till today, she is also one of the people primarily responsible for my good handwriting.

Thank You, Amma!

I have lost touch with both Agnihotri bai and Suzie Miss. And I am not sure whether Agnihotri bai is still alive or not. But if either of you are reading this post somewhere, I would like to let you know that you are still in my heart and in my prayers.

Third – Mrs. Khan: She started off as a teacher in a municipal school and was a Headmistress when she retired. She has been an influence behind a lot of youth in areas like Nagpada, Madanpura and Dharavi growing to be decent, educated and well-respected people.

She was my first teacher. She taught me the alphabets – both English and Arabic. She taught me how to speak, how to behave. She instilled a sense of responsibility in me. She taught me to differentiate between right and wrong, to control my emotions. She taught me disciple and chivalry. She taught me Islam, and to respect others for their beliefs.

She is the reason for me being the man I am.

Whatever I am today, is because of her.

She is now in her 70s, and I still meet her everyday.

She is my mother!

Happy Teacher’s Day, Ammi. I love you!