As I see it

As I see it!

Do you think I should go and get my eyesight checked?

The thing is, in the last few months whenever I have entered the departure terminal of the domestic airport at Lucknow, I have been assailed by this fear that I have Lucknow airport colour blindness. General gyan (knowledge) says the colour blind see everything in only selective colours, though not necessarily, black and white and the greys in between. I see only pink and purple there. Sometimes the monotony of the colour duo is broken and I see touches of blue and red too.

There is so much pink and purple that I am not sure if the decorator was being creative or expressing support for the female gender. Not a great fan of getting everything boy in blue and girl in pink, I stand clouded in uncertainty.  Besides, the profusion of  decorative elements forces me to scrunch my eyes so the dazzle does not confuse my optic nerve.

We Indians love colour and excessive decorations, but I nurse this dumb idea that airports should be open, uncongested spaces so that it is easy to maneuver among the crowds who are rushing to be the first ones to get in and fly, or get out and reach wherever they mean to.

I see clay and other sculptures besides plants in vertical gardens or trapped in pots. These are apart from the shops, shops and shops that are fast sprouting on every step and turn, trying to woo customers glued to their mobile screens for last minute shopping of chikan, kebab, chocolates, handbags or indulge in overpriced chai, dosa, samosa, and coffee. 

Not only that, huge billboards advertising Adaniji’s very own brand of besan (chickpea flour), cooking oil and other food items kindly and subtly remind me to update my grocery list. The great one stop shop that he is, I also see billboards of his green energy projects and university.

I hope Shrimaan Adaniji (Mr Adani) and his team are done with the decoration of the domestic airport at Lucknow and will now move on to other cities included in their contract to make them equally beautiful.

**************

Last week had brought a break from the temperatures already creeping up the scale in March and everyone was relieved when rain came. Most of the urban north smiled with respite at the breeze brought in by the unseasonal showers.

Nearly-ready crops flattened by rain and hailstorm

But then I saw pictures of farmers sitting with their heads in their hands because the rain and hailstorm had damaged their almost-ready rabi crops. My heart sank. It was a double whammy for them, what with the heat wave in the first half of the month and then rain and hail later, which flattened the standing crops. Damaged crops mean lesser yield, less money for farmers, higher prices of commodities for everyone and the spiral results in more inflation. I am told this is climate change spelling out the future of this planet in ugly, bold letters. An unsettling thought but aren’t we ourselves to blame for the increasing pollution, deforestation, and development at the cost of human and plant life?

************

That was last week. Now the temperature is creeping up again and the milk bought one day earlier split, so I went to get fresh milk. As I was coming back, I saw a motley group of about 10-15 children between 4 to 12 years of age, at the gate of a nearby residential complex. The girls were dressed in their shiniest best with a lot of bling, their hair tied in colourful bands, and the boys too were dressed as if they were ready to go somewhere special. They were talking among themselves, looking in all directions. I kept walking. They too left that gate and were now crowded at the entrance of another cluster of buildings. They were made to leave that too because the security guards there did not let them in.

Perhaps because of the change in guards’ shifts in our complex, there was nobody at the back gate. The noisily chatting group came in thorough the narrow side entrance and I realized what was happening.

For those who may not know, let me explain.

On the eighth or the ninth day of the Chaitra navratras (nine days of fast and worship of Goddess Durga in the Hindu month of Chaitra), girls who have not yet attained puberty, are worshipped as kanjak/kanya as the nine embodiments of Goddess Durga. Small children, yet untouched by the ways of the world,  are thought to have pure souls.

Nine girls (it could be 18 too, depending on the wish and pocket of the householder) and one boy (langur) are invited. One washes their feet, ties sacred thread on their wrists, offers them food. The menu for this occasion includes poori (deep-fried Indian bread), potato curry, dahi-vada (lentil doughnuts soaked in yogurt), kala chana (black chickpeas), jalebi, halwa, kheer (rice pudding), fruits etc. While leaving, they are given gifts or cash.

The schools are closed after the final or annual examination and the children look forward to this treat. I remember as a little girl it used to be super fun because several households would invite you for kanjak. Also, this was the rare occasion when parents did not mind you accepting money (although the sums used to be rather paltry).

It used to be a special day and only girls were invited, yet perhaps going by gender equality or because they would trouble their parents, small young boys may also be included in the pooja nowadays.

The children of the present times are smarter than we used to be and know who would give more money or expensive gifts. Excitedly, they move about with bags so that they can carry their haul home.

Continuing with my story, I realized that these children were freelance kanjaks coming from nearby colonies, looking for invitations from people. They waited outside and if someone could not arrange kanyas to feed, was short of the number or the ones invited were too busy making rounds of several houses, they would offer their services.

I informed the guard in another block who chased them away. If you are curious, yes, I did feel a tinge of guilt at being a killjoy and damaging the prospects of improvement in their personal finances, but the sight of a horde of small-sized strangers noisily moving around, gaping at buildings in the hope of emergency offers, made me uncomfortable.

But what ingenuity! In a country where preschoolers and primary school students also have a business plan and are willing to take the risk, who dare forecast darkness ahead for Indian economy? Boo to the naysayers, I say.

                                                                                             -Anupama S Mani