I usually rely on the much looked-down upon mode of travel in Pune, i.e. PMT buses, to get me across town. The first time I saw one of the PMT buses outside my apartment complex I'd balked at the very idea of stepping into one of them! But necessity, encouraged further by my stubborn refusal to learn how to drive (forget the popular 2-wheeler, so far I've even resisted getting a driver's licence for a car...) ensured that it soon became a part of my regular commute across the city to Alliance Francaise de Poona.
The bus takes a rather circuitous route to its final destination, from where I have to hop into another mode of transport to my final destination, and on its way it passes through the tree-lined avenues of Camp ( just one part of the Cantonment area of Pune). The sunlight filters through the awny cover of the trees on these roads and it usually has a different feel to it - like the pace in this part of town is slower than elsewhere. It's greener, more peaceful, dreamier...The bus crosses some really sprawling bungalows - defense property as well as private property - some of the bungalows are tasteful, some of them have a cozier touch that appeals more, but none hurt the eyes.
For months, as the bus took one more of it's several turns, before it hits M.G road, I used catch a glimpse of this young woman sitting under a tree - she was dressed in a faded old saree, sans a blouse or petticoat and it was painfully obvious that she was in dire straits. She was selling local liquour - a derivative of Nira (which I believe is juice of a Tadgola - both are delicously colling in summers, though I can't say anything about the liquour having never sampled it!). There were always two bottles in front of her - one filled right upto the tightly screwed on cap and the other open - I have a feeling she partook of it during her long dharna under the tree.
I've often wondered if anyone bought the liquour from her or if she consumed it entirely by herself - as I've wondered how she existed if this is her only source of income, and if she has any family, and where she went in the night. Since the past few weeks I've been wondering about that more often, for I no longer see her there - and I wonder if the local authorities had something to do with it, or was it someone/something else that caused her to cease trying to sell her wares by the roadside...
17 comments:
The unknown millions? Faces, places, unimportant lives. Dust Thou Art, and Unto Dust Shalt Thou Return ... once someone wipes you off the old table in the corner. Sorry, abstract comment. Maybe I need some Nira :-)
I still don't see a mail. Or a ghost story. Nobody's doing as I bid, apparently. Anyhoo, there be lots of people like that woman. In all probability, she wasn't there to sell it.
PMT...Boy, I think after people gave up riding on horses decades back, they got those buses and are still using it. I fear while getting down from the front door, that I dont fall into the engine clearly visible behind the drivers seat.
Its high time that they should be kept in the museum now :)
I was walking down of Pune cantt's numerous roads and I was walking I so this old parsi house and the gate had the most peculiar sign.
Beware of Dogs and Ghosts.
I thought to myself looking around me. They're definetly some truth in that.
mayb she died or sumthing... strange how something u see everyday and dont pay attention to comes bak 2 u when it aint thr anymore :)
that reminded me of a woman i use to pass on my way to school. an old woman ( i would only catch glimpse of her withered feet) in the smallest room one can imagine by the road. i always promised i'd give her a blanket tomorrow but i'd forget in the morning and one day her 'house' was gone...no trace.
Parth - Hey didn't realise you could connect the 2 posts - am getting a bit maudlin na?
Phal - Lady me emailed thee yest - ghost stories aren't my forte! Hey you're sounding all pessimist - all OK down there?
Arz00n - LOL! Hey give them some credit - atleast they got some new buses ;-)Welcome to the blog!
Avinash - Welcome aboard! I think that happens on some of the PMT routes also!
Akshay - *shudder* Some of those old houses really look haunted na? There is one in Koregaon too - its down right spooky!!!
Elixir - ah oui, c'est vrai!
Gulnaz - Oh...fills one with regret when one realises how much our empty promises might have meant to someone else na?
Sometimes, people like the lady you mentioned on the roadside become institutions on their own. And when they disappear you can't help but notice the loss.
Hey...a fellow pune ..KP blogger...feels good to relate to things..Cheers !
" In cities like Bombay, we train ourselves not to see. The visual pollution has tinted our lenses, and we can block out strong stimuli...A polarized lens that blocks out the visually displeasing: mother with baby begging, cripples on the side of the road, an old woman dying quietly in the train station. "
The above comments were made by Suketu Mehta ( Author of Maximum City ). It resonates with the condition of the Old Lady mentioned in your post.
Great Insight..Geetanjali
not depressed love, just a little tired, been doing too too many things and now im a little chilled. also, have my first of all sangli trip next week. so joy!
August - So true...I still find myself looking for her, even tho it's been a while since she disappeared frm that spot.
Dips - Ok now that's the first time someone's referred to me as a fellow-Puneite (still think of myself as a Bombayite;-)) - not really frm KP, but wat they call KP annexe ;-) Hope to see you here again!
Amit - Enlightening...so how's Mehta's book?
Anon - Thanks! (I'm still wondering who you are, having gone thru the list of my usual Anon commenters and gotten genative responses frm all of them - out with it now...)
Phal - Yes me sees you're tired - tres obvious frm last email! Take care baccha...and chin up!:-)
it takes all our kind to make this world what it is, a wonder too many.
Hey Gee...I had to look up prolific ;-) ..
and shucks..you were among the few who havnt done the book meme...i was so going to tag you...
neway...have a nice day...
I have a funny story about tadgola. When I was younger, my mom used to run to the hawker who sold these tadgolas on the street and would buy a whole bunch as she loved them and so did we. Mostly though, I just loved watching my mom eating these things with so much passion and describing the flavor as if it were the juiciest mango.
I used to peel them for her and slice them to eat w/ fork. My mom would make fun of me for being such a prude. This story sure as hell brings back fond memories of childhood..
Thanks for the blog!
Post a Comment