A rare specimen

As i'm growing older and seeing my hair grey and teeth decay, i'm understanding how this world really functions. The element of surprise is lost on us. Maybe because we've stopped looking for it. Much against the ongoing trend, i recently bumped into a fellow commuter who exemplified coolness. He wasn't this look-at-me-i-am-so-cool cool. He was far better. Must be in his early 20s, he was standing near the door with his concentration locked on his smartphone. And as the train approached Kurla, the crowd got panicky as nobody wants to land up in Virar or wherever they think the train will take them if they don't behave like they're about to be set free by their masters. Coming back to our guy, he got pushed and as bad luck would have it, he lost grip on his phone. The poor thing flew and crashed on the platform. I couldn't feel the pain of such horror unfolding in front of my eyes but i could relate to his upcoming grief. The only catch here is he wasn't sad. Or anything close to it. He didn't even lose his temper. On top of that, he didn't even bother to look back to see who really pushed him. He calmly got down, collected the scattered chassis of his phone and reassembled it. There was a smile on his face throughout. And off he went shaking his head. Either he thought he was at fault for not being able to take care of his non-living friend or he's about to buy a new model so wouldn't mind any less. Whichever way you look at it, that was a rare sight in a city where people just need a reason to valve off their long-accumulated fury.

Frozen news

My amma and papa don't get along very well but they share a lot of similarities. For example, there are seriously demented characters from both ends. As if mental illness runs in the family. But one particular specimen stands out for her sheer bonhomie. Malamma. My mother's eldest sister who had a nervous breakdown at a rather young age after her husband passed away leaving her with a son to fend for. She had a not-so-colorful life but the people who took care of her had it worse. Eventually, she ended up in our house in Bombay and that's when i came in close contact with her. A gentle soul (under heavy medication), i remember her muttering words to herself. Between sleep, food, staring at TV and petty chores (and several pills, of course), there wasn't much to her existence. Oh yes, there was one thing she was very fond of: newspapers. Actually, newspaper. There was this Kannada daily that she got hold of someday when i had just entered secondary school. And she continued reading that particular edition for several months—if not years. I don't remember the exact time period of her fascination with news she can't use. But i do often reminisce how we used to jokingly ask her "Are you done with it? Or is there still some breaking news in there?" with no response whatsoever. Paying attention wasn't her forte so it didn't matter how many times she read that paper nor how many times we tried to be funny.