March Summer stirred on Link Road. No cars. A 6 morning, put spurs to the heart. A tall, paunchy Muslim gentleman pushing a handcart calling out pocket-size coconuts at Rs.10 a piece; the first walkers stood round him, feeling and picking the hardware to all Indian cooking; yes, there is less inflation, proving right the economic scholars writing in business journals; yes, scholars are happy as they could also be consumers of coconuts and coconut wisdoms; Kerala wisdom comes from coconuts; think of it, a coconut at Rs.10; Rama stood satisfied; at the cart, counting chillar (coins), the Muslim gentleman in flowing clothes and a serene, silent beard, flicked me to Shams Qayyum Wazir in Waziristan, father of Maria Gulgatai Toorpakai. Ravi Krishnan recently lent the book A Different Kind of Daughter - The Girl Who Hid From the Taliban in Plain Sight, for a read; being slow on the intake, am savouring it softly and slowly, keeping aside the remains of the day; thank you Ravi Krishnan. Writes Toorpakai: 'My father, Shams Quayyum Wazir, not yet thirty himself, was a liberated man of noble blood, which meant that he was a renegade among Pashtun men....Together, we adhered to our Muslim faith, observing feasts and fasts and praying five times each day, but my father taught us the people world over found many ways to reach God. My family were freethinkers, and it was that quality that would eventually make us outcasts within our conservative tribe, at the same time as it liberated us.' Me watched the Muslim gentleman not complain over chillar as the coconuts rolled off his handcart. Rajan on Yogi Nagar Road, selling coconut at Rs.30 per piece was observing the loss of business, but that is what free market economics is, Mint writers will say. Turning into Yogi Nagar Road for milk from Jain Dughdalay and Amul Taza from the Amul counter, watched the kadamba in new birthed greens; along with laburnum, favourite trees on Yogi Nagar Road; the kadamba (Neolamarkia cadamba), should be middle aged, tall like the six feet Muslim gentleman; the Yogi Nagar public has not strapped gods to its trunk unlike the many peepals which are today temples with old men and women offering aarati and water to them and their gods; today, the peepals have drops of soft green with koyals calling; stood scanning the skies for a noisy kingfisher as a few curious strays collected round my feet, wagging tails. On the trudge back home, spotted the Muslim gentleman pushing an empty cart, the day's business done. Rama split the coconut in a neat two halves, chopped raw mangos for a blistering, mango chutney to go with adais for breakfast. Life is not Maya.
Tuesday, March 22, 2016
Coconut at Rs.10
March Summer stirred on Link Road. No cars. A 6 morning, put spurs to the heart. A tall, paunchy Muslim gentleman pushing a handcart calling out pocket-size coconuts at Rs.10 a piece; the first walkers stood round him, feeling and picking the hardware to all Indian cooking; yes, there is less inflation, proving right the economic scholars writing in business journals; yes, scholars are happy as they could also be consumers of coconuts and coconut wisdoms; Kerala wisdom comes from coconuts; think of it, a coconut at Rs.10; Rama stood satisfied; at the cart, counting chillar (coins), the Muslim gentleman in flowing clothes and a serene, silent beard, flicked me to Shams Qayyum Wazir in Waziristan, father of Maria Gulgatai Toorpakai. Ravi Krishnan recently lent the book A Different Kind of Daughter - The Girl Who Hid From the Taliban in Plain Sight, for a read; being slow on the intake, am savouring it softly and slowly, keeping aside the remains of the day; thank you Ravi Krishnan. Writes Toorpakai: 'My father, Shams Quayyum Wazir, not yet thirty himself, was a liberated man of noble blood, which meant that he was a renegade among Pashtun men....Together, we adhered to our Muslim faith, observing feasts and fasts and praying five times each day, but my father taught us the people world over found many ways to reach God. My family were freethinkers, and it was that quality that would eventually make us outcasts within our conservative tribe, at the same time as it liberated us.' Me watched the Muslim gentleman not complain over chillar as the coconuts rolled off his handcart. Rajan on Yogi Nagar Road, selling coconut at Rs.30 per piece was observing the loss of business, but that is what free market economics is, Mint writers will say. Turning into Yogi Nagar Road for milk from Jain Dughdalay and Amul Taza from the Amul counter, watched the kadamba in new birthed greens; along with laburnum, favourite trees on Yogi Nagar Road; the kadamba (Neolamarkia cadamba), should be middle aged, tall like the six feet Muslim gentleman; the Yogi Nagar public has not strapped gods to its trunk unlike the many peepals which are today temples with old men and women offering aarati and water to them and their gods; today, the peepals have drops of soft green with koyals calling; stood scanning the skies for a noisy kingfisher as a few curious strays collected round my feet, wagging tails. On the trudge back home, spotted the Muslim gentleman pushing an empty cart, the day's business done. Rama split the coconut in a neat two halves, chopped raw mangos for a blistering, mango chutney to go with adais for breakfast. Life is not Maya.
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