We're having a technical event in my college.Which is a supreme excuse for all the students to get together, work a little, and enjoy a lot.On this very excuse, me and my friend went to buy some stuff cheap from the city's old market. This market is away from the heart of the city. It is crowded, with more people and vehicles on the road than they can handle, and full of activity.Whether its ten am in the morning or two in the afternoon. Which is when we went. Me and her.
After checking off about seven-eight items on our list we asked this very pleasant uncle where we can find old tin cans. How many did we need? about fifty.Okay, no problem, we were told.Just take the first right,another right and you'll reach the old scrapyard.Silence. Actually,said he, I wouldn't exactly say its the safest place for you two.
Now that was confusing,but desperate measures call for desperate action, so we went anyway. We found the shop (again, a very nice uncle helped us there) and with thirty tin cans in our hands and content blooming in our minds..we turned to find the way back to our parked car. Now meaning no disrespect to any kind of area in my "laadki" city, it seemed to us that every small crooked lane, every single old building and every single shop (hardware , mostly) looked exactly alike. So my friend came up with the bright idea of hiring a rickshaw to our car, as we couldn't find it anyway, and by the looks of it, weren't going to any time soon.As we loaded ourselves and our humongous pile of junk into the rickshaw and gave him very questionable directions, we were off.
My friend was fidgety from the start. Something about the streets and the people made her uncomfortable.I , however, was having fun.The place is truly amazing.Its startling how much space is being used here.Every inch of the city was used up for either business or..err..pleasure?
The thing is we missed a turn.Which did not make my friend any calmer.So our rickshaw uncle (not nice) assured us not to worry. We;ll just take a turn in here.This left. Thats the one.
Left we went.
She said" Apna naseeb hi kharab hain , do you want something cold to drin....."
In one second, my mind went numbingly blank.Its like i was transported to a different world.The kind of world we get to see on screen. Or read in those very descriptive books. Someone was holding my hand. Shaking it. Panic.
It was my friend. Her face was white and her hands grabbing onto my faded kurta, cold.I wanted to see her terrified expression or mine reflecting on her face.
But i was too caught up.
There they were. Broad daylight.
Its like this. The lane has a hundred tiny wada-like places.Which have some more windows and lots of doors.At every single door,window they were there. Pink.Red. Silver. Golden. Pink. Red. Green. Just flashes we caught at first. But the crowd ( oh yes did i mention, very crowded) slowed down our rickshaw.
They were heavily dressed for a hot summer day. With fake brands embossing their ( otherwise naked) bodies. Tight black skirts, ending well before their thighs. heavy gold jewelery.And the Pink Lipstick.
Not just that though. Their heavily made up eyes, scanning the crowd. Filtering people who're there to browse and potential customers.Leaning against the doors or each other smoking, laughing, talking,yelling , shouting and passing the look.Their clothes too tight for their bodies, and vice versa.
They came in all shapes, sizes, ages, colors, and costs. On careful observation, you could tell, the important ones from the newbies.
The lane was filled with people. It was so crowded that there were people walking exactly next to our rickshaw. shoulders and body brushing-wala crowd.
A movie started playing in my head. A tall strange man. Approaches a house. The other house owners try to entice him to look at themselves. He points to one house and enters.Its 43 degrees outside. Hot and sticky. Scorching heat. Two pm in this heated afternoon. The room is small and hot. No ventilation. Dirty. One small bed. On the floor. The man and woman are in for about twenty minutes. After which he zips up and leaves. Out of that impersonal world to come back only next week.
She gets up. Cleans up. Washes her face. Reapplies the pink lipstick. And resumes her place at the door . Her purse one note heavier. And the luring game begins. Round two for the day.
Its not about seeing this, or imagining this. Its when you see a hundred such similar sights that a persons head bursts with the events surrounding him.Hundred, i kid you not.
The red, pink , green flashes do not end. The shouts , the pulling and pushing of bodies on the street do not end.
Or so you think.
Just as abruptly as the lane arrived , it vanished.
We arrived in front of our parked car. It was my car alright.With the happy yellow sunflower on the dashboard.
The rickshaw driver turned back and said, " Thirty Rupees, madam."
After checking off about seven-eight items on our list we asked this very pleasant uncle where we can find old tin cans. How many did we need? about fifty.Okay, no problem, we were told.Just take the first right,another right and you'll reach the old scrapyard.Silence. Actually,said he, I wouldn't exactly say its the safest place for you two.
My friend was fidgety from the start. Something about the streets and the people made her uncomfortable.I , however, was having fun.The place is truly amazing.Its startling how much space is being used here.Every inch of the city was used up for either business or..err..pleasure?
The thing is we missed a turn.Which did not make my friend any calmer.So our rickshaw uncle (not nice) assured us not to worry. We;ll just take a turn in here.This left. Thats the one.
Left we went.
She said" Apna naseeb hi kharab hain , do you want something cold to drin....."
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| Open. flickriver.com |
It was my friend. Her face was white and her hands grabbing onto my faded kurta, cold.I wanted to see her terrified expression or mine reflecting on her face.
But i was too caught up.
There they were. Broad daylight.
Its like this. The lane has a hundred tiny wada-like places.Which have some more windows and lots of doors.At every single door,window they were there. Pink.Red. Silver. Golden. Pink. Red. Green. Just flashes we caught at first. But the crowd ( oh yes did i mention, very crowded) slowed down our rickshaw.
They were heavily dressed for a hot summer day. With fake brands embossing their ( otherwise naked) bodies. Tight black skirts, ending well before their thighs. heavy gold jewelery.And the Pink Lipstick.
Not just that though. Their heavily made up eyes, scanning the crowd. Filtering people who're there to browse and potential customers.Leaning against the doors or each other smoking, laughing, talking,yelling , shouting and passing the look.Their clothes too tight for their bodies, and vice versa.
They came in all shapes, sizes, ages, colors, and costs. On careful observation, you could tell, the important ones from the newbies.
The lane was filled with people. It was so crowded that there were people walking exactly next to our rickshaw. shoulders and body brushing-wala crowd.
A movie started playing in my head. A tall strange man. Approaches a house. The other house owners try to entice him to look at themselves. He points to one house and enters.Its 43 degrees outside. Hot and sticky. Scorching heat. Two pm in this heated afternoon. The room is small and hot. No ventilation. Dirty. One small bed. On the floor. The man and woman are in for about twenty minutes. After which he zips up and leaves. Out of that impersonal world to come back only next week.
She gets up. Cleans up. Washes her face. Reapplies the pink lipstick. And resumes her place at the door . Her purse one note heavier. And the luring game begins. Round two for the day.
Its not about seeing this, or imagining this. Its when you see a hundred such similar sights that a persons head bursts with the events surrounding him.Hundred, i kid you not.
The red, pink , green flashes do not end. The shouts , the pulling and pushing of bodies on the street do not end.
Or so you think.
Just as abruptly as the lane arrived , it vanished.
We arrived in front of our parked car. It was my car alright.With the happy yellow sunflower on the dashboard.
The rickshaw driver turned back and said, " Thirty Rupees, madam."
3 comments:
You must get the credit for writing a post on red light area. I myself would have found it tough and kind of uncomfortable to write about it. Also liked the way you ended your post.
'The rickshaw driver turned back and said, " Thirty Rupees, madam."'
each time i read this..I get goosebumbs..takes me back to that day,that lane!!..Well written and definately a bold attempt.......
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