An October 2016 in Mumbai is unsweaty. November mornings, evenings, nights -- pleasant smiles. Peeping into darkness, setting out on a walk at 6 in the morning; Link Road has lost half its soul to coloured metal partitions for Metro Rail; through the nights machines, noisily drill and drill the Earth; insomniacs; a security guard thinks Metro Rail will slice the skies in five years after counting for funds filched by every soul related to the project; which, he says, is fine by Indian governance norms. Striding into LIC Colony, Ajoba waves arms, good mornings to trees known and unknowns; it does not matter, this knowing or not knowing Mumbai style; their leaves nudge and wave hullos, an acknowledgement; you cant deny they live; from post-rain hedges, beep blue morning glory and morning glory; they never miss the first week of November; frangipani and parijats in blistering bloom. Being early, the talking, hurrying walkers are absent, leaving Ajoba soul alone. At the Francis grounds, footballs thomp and thud waiting for footballers; they desire kicks; wait; and then there are more footballs in the air than on the grass. Ajoba watches, pockets the moment, as it may not be the same tomorrow. Ajoba is not into prayers, deep breaths, laughter clubs and all that; he likes to watch the world pass by having been a part of that world; today more an outsider than an insider; the sun bounces heads of the laburnum and rain trees; on electric wires sit and fly drongos; none has a watch or a timer; they are as long as legs hold; and then a resting on steel chairs before the walk back along Ayappa Mandir Marg and the Krishnan spot where Ajoba is sure to spot some bird, at least a crow; today counted three or is it four bharadwajs from some 15 feet away; a magpie robin marking the batting or is it bowling crease, being November; the first Test match between South Africa and Australia starts at Perth; perhaps, the magpie robin will switch on Star Sports HD to watch Hashim Amla bat; and then on a leafless tree, a koyal calling with his lady flying across; Ajoba pecked a house sparrow in thanks. Every morning is not the same. Like Ajoba is not every morning. But some days, Ajoba pockets a pack of joy; in his armchair, unpacks; for Aji waiting with coffee.
Thursday, November 3, 2016
November 2016
An October 2016 in Mumbai is unsweaty. November mornings, evenings, nights -- pleasant smiles. Peeping into darkness, setting out on a walk at 6 in the morning; Link Road has lost half its soul to coloured metal partitions for Metro Rail; through the nights machines, noisily drill and drill the Earth; insomniacs; a security guard thinks Metro Rail will slice the skies in five years after counting for funds filched by every soul related to the project; which, he says, is fine by Indian governance norms. Striding into LIC Colony, Ajoba waves arms, good mornings to trees known and unknowns; it does not matter, this knowing or not knowing Mumbai style; their leaves nudge and wave hullos, an acknowledgement; you cant deny they live; from post-rain hedges, beep blue morning glory and morning glory; they never miss the first week of November; frangipani and parijats in blistering bloom. Being early, the talking, hurrying walkers are absent, leaving Ajoba soul alone. At the Francis grounds, footballs thomp and thud waiting for footballers; they desire kicks; wait; and then there are more footballs in the air than on the grass. Ajoba watches, pockets the moment, as it may not be the same tomorrow. Ajoba is not into prayers, deep breaths, laughter clubs and all that; he likes to watch the world pass by having been a part of that world; today more an outsider than an insider; the sun bounces heads of the laburnum and rain trees; on electric wires sit and fly drongos; none has a watch or a timer; they are as long as legs hold; and then a resting on steel chairs before the walk back along Ayappa Mandir Marg and the Krishnan spot where Ajoba is sure to spot some bird, at least a crow; today counted three or is it four bharadwajs from some 15 feet away; a magpie robin marking the batting or is it bowling crease, being November; the first Test match between South Africa and Australia starts at Perth; perhaps, the magpie robin will switch on Star Sports HD to watch Hashim Amla bat; and then on a leafless tree, a koyal calling with his lady flying across; Ajoba pecked a house sparrow in thanks. Every morning is not the same. Like Ajoba is not every morning. But some days, Ajoba pockets a pack of joy; in his armchair, unpacks; for Aji waiting with coffee.
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