Diwaali Mubaarak

This woman , a stranger , climbing the staircase showed her surprise as Sunanda and I exchanged our usual goodbyes and in addition wished each other "Diwali Mubaarak" too .
Indeed  for those who stay in their cocooned webs of self centred existence , "Khudahaafiz  .... aur  Diwaaali sab ko Mubaaarak ho .... ! " in the same breath must come as an hugely outlandish expression !!!

I have had the honour to witness this expression many times.

Thinking of  such well-insulated areas where persons belonging to one community are completely unaware of  people in another neighbouring community ,  in times of   a globalised world  would have amused me had it been a figment of my imagination   .... but it is sadly  not so .....

There is this middle aged woman , Sunanda , who my family knows from the time we were children .There was a time when she was an integral part of the fabric that cosntituted my family outfit. Everyday she would come with her mother and help my mother in the kitchen , while her mother did the jhaadoo-bartan.
Then for a while we drifted away into separate spaces.

But the moods of Destiny are unpredictable ....so once again our paths crossed.
Now she comes over from her home (travelling across Mumbai for an hour and a half) to my place every once in a while .
Her arrival is a big and welcome help as she keeps company to my seventy-five plus Mother while "home-ridden" me slips out , away from the sluggish daily routine , for a long breath of fresh air.....  !!!
I adjust my outings as per Sunanda's schedule .... a film , a play , or just plain awaragardi .... all depends on her presence in my house because I dare not leave Mummy alone

And  this morning as Sunanda was leaving after a three day-stay at my place , we exchanged the usual goodbyes .....and in addition the Diwaali Mubaarak .....

And the starltled look on the face of the woman climbing up the stairs ..... !!!

My Dakiya and his Daak

The Postman is now a rare sight ....

He was that familiar man from an era  long gone by ,  who would bring the news  from far away relatives , riding on a bicycle through the lanes and bylanes of  every city , town and countryside .
 He knew all the addresses by heart , most of the times  he personally  knew the people too who resided at those addreses and at times he was allowed to be a part of the news he brought for them

The Post Office was a reservoir of information and the postman was  the person who distributed not just letters , but many a time could help in bringing long lost friends to connect with each other once again .... like it happened a couple of years ago when an elderly online friend of mine had asked me to find a friend of his who he had lost touch over the the years , and had not contacted for close to half a century.... !!!
He had given me the address of fifty years ago.

And YES... ! Astonishingly in a city like Mumabi I could locate that person .....
With the help of The Postman of that lacality.....!!!

But The Postman is now a rare sight .....

No one writes letters these days .... May be a few times in a month we get some business mail or a couple of bills  through postal services  . And hence   this rather heavy envelope which came along in the post some weeks ago , went neglected  untill   I opened it at least two weekends later when I found the time to clear the accumulated " raddi " on my shelf.

It was this envelope , apparently carrying  a load of waste paper inside it , which was to give me the most pleasant surprise in a long time.
As I emptied  the envelope of its  contents I found  greeting cards , book marks and some brochures carrying  information and details about  the sender :
The IMFPA ....  ( The Indian Mouth and Foot Painting Artists )
As I held the amazingly beautiful contents in my hands I felt the deepest sense of respect for the dignified senders.

And then nostalgia gripped me like a hypnotic charmer .....
I struggled to remember all those greeting cards exchanged on birthdays , New Years and festivals ....

When was the last time I had sent (or recieved )  such a card ?
Must have been too long ago because there seemed to be  no connecting link in sight which would put together the present with the past this time .

The diary which contained postal addresses of friends had gone into hiding in the lowest  drawer at the foot of that wooden chest which had not been  touched for ages now ....as if it had never existed.
But inside it  existed a whole world that changing times had tried to kill through neglect.
But surely and thankfully too,  that world  had sustained itself courageously and so beautifully....

Among the pages of that old dusty diary were familiar  paths leading to real places and real people.
I could feel their fragrance . I could feel their affection ....
I had found my dormant Paradise.

This festive season I'm going to let the Postman work a bit more .... because I'm going to send greeting cards to my clan and friends  .... so just wait my dears ....here I come .....
Look for the Dakiya-daak-laya ..... because ...... Zindgi aa rahi hoon main .....  :-) :-) :-) !!!!