Lily Boy ...

I finally made my splash it into water... and Dad is a proud person. The ace swimmer of his village, who nearly made it to the state level events had always this in his mind that I can't swim.
Today, in his late 50's he can swim effortlessly for hours in the broadest and wildest of rivers in Orissa, the eastern Indian state where both of us were born.

In childhood days his swimming pool was the algae infested green village Pond. He understood the pulse of water, snakes, frogs, and all his companions in swimming at a very early age. People say, how once he developed the fancy to beat the water snakes in free style swimming on their own turf.
It went like this his friends would hit the water snakes resting at the coast of the pond and then Dad will make his splash this would ensue at least a 50 meter race side-by-side withe snakes. Which he would win constantly. In his boyhood he had another heroic distinction to his kitty...Protecting the village lilies :)

In coastal villages of Orissa, only some well managed less utilised ponds play host to lillies. They could be pink, blue or white in colour and blossom in all seasons except summer.

In this case the village boys had a gang war like situation:)....the gang war like situation evolved after boys from the other village started stealing pink water lilies from the pond in which Dad and his friends were swimming.

The lilies were so important...why?... because unmarried village girls would adorn them during the 'Rojo' festival, a way of welcoming rain God, crucial for sustainable food production and the rural economy.

So in village parlance in those days lilies were almost like diamonds. Stakes were high for those lilies about 500 in number all blossoming to the fullest...the festival is tomorrow...
It was a half moon night when five boys decided to stay awake to protect the pond from the attack of the foreign boys :)
They had rice flakes and jaggery with them for food and by 9 'O clock in the night the boys swam midway through the river and took positions on the small island like structure inside the river. It was drizzling Dad and others had to wait for about 7 hours before the enemies strike. It was 4 a.m, early in the morning but with rain and clouds the vision was not clear. Shankarda, Dad's friend could see some underwater movement and informed his gang.
Dad took the lead and along with his four friends staged an underwater fight with the enemies, who were double in number.
Most in Dad's team lost the fight and pleaded for a safe passage to the pond coast and allowed the boys from the other village to take the lilies. But Dad was not to oblige. But didn't have much choice to make. He chose a dangerous one....:)) to stay and fight till he can... the result was not easy... biggest boy the other village got him by his neck and pushed him underwater......after some resistance Dad overpowered him and the rest was recorded in his villages history. With the chief inside water his sub-ordinates panicked. By that time villagers came to understand about the underwater fight. All of them were caught and at the age of 9, Dad was a saviour for the villages lilies and maidens too:)...
Since then he's called the Lily boy in his village.
Note: The biog boy whom, Dad got into underwater later helped Dad in his studies and remained his mentor forever...Happy ending........

It took me two days to write the blog and the update is that I can swim even better .....

Working on a rainy day

Working on a rainy day is not new to me, but it was new to discover, what happens to those who lose their food and home, when rains arrive.
Mumbai's rains are unique, they are as disciplined as its people, they pour and pour atleast more than any of the four other metropolitan cities India has. Yet, more people turn up at work in Mumbai, than in other places, on a similar rainy day. Reason, rains come at all the unwanted times in those cities. In Mumbai, it always hits its highs only after an average worker reaches office. It is also synchronized with the exodus time of the commuter for home in the evening. Rains stop, during the peak commuting hours, as if they are offering guard of honour to the spirit of Mumbai.
Interestingly it lashes on Saturdays and Sundays,when most of the workforce is back at cozy, homely atmosphere, thereby not comprising on its duty of water distribution to this part of the world. Well my analysis is based on my two years of stay in the city and sans the horrible rainy July in 2005, when the city was in rocks, as it experienced highest preipitation in its recorded history.
Now, I think my idea of Mumbai is too limited. I'm talking about the white collar workforce, what happens to those who have to work everyday for their food.
Last week, Rags...(heart of gold as I call him) helped me to have a sneak preview to the that world. I was not exactly convinced to curtail my leisurely Sunday plans for knowing the constraints of of people in Bharat (as we all deprived India). But then it was heart of gold (HOG), who had asked. I couldn't refuse.

It was raining since the morning, we took a train from Belapur, which stopped after 30 mins, or after covering about 25 percent of our destination path. Then we walked, took a bus, again walked and finally reached near the opulent Hirnandani township near Powai. HOG took me to Mrs Thanawalla, living in one of the swankiest Hiranandani villas. I was surprised to see a Humvee, the giant utility vehicle, most prefered by the American military , in front of her house. Well that was not anyway related to our move. Mrs Thanawalla gave us six bags of biscuits and bread and a bucket full of milk. I knew HOG, can mould people to help his cause. But I was got more interested in knowing how he got to this lady, and what's the story behind the hummer (you can't run it on Mumbai roads then what was it doing there). Anyways the time was not conducive for me to ask such questions then. So I had keep the questions with myself.

We left in a hurry from her house and entered into the nearby slum, which was like a dilapidated valley surrounded by exceptionally tall, brilliantly designed plush skyscrapers. But the look of the slum was equally dreary, dingy and broken if we talk of a comparison with the buildings. Suddenly some twenty kids ran toward us. "Raghuda".."raghuda" alare (meaning here comes Raghuda)...offcourse they were referring to my friend, HOG.

HOG asked me to help him in distributing the food stuff. We had a nice time chatting with the kids while getting drenched in rain. HOG knew everyone by name and had a personal chat about health, school and food. After about two hours we were to leave when HOG asked for 'what would they require next Sunday'. Milk and Parle-G they all said. HOG immediately informed Mrs Thanawalla about next weeks menu over phone.

Now it was time to go back home. HOG seemed to be happy after serving the kids. I too was feeling more confident about myself after talking to the kids. I was pursuing HOG to come to my place, but he had to live for Latur for delivering another menu in some village. I said goodluck. As I reached Kanjurmarg station to get back to Kurla, found all trains of the track due to heavy rains. Spent some four hours in the station before services resumed. Was sipping coffee and thinking about working on a rainy day with the kids and HOG. But, yes intermittently, the surprise of Humvee was entering into my mind.