True Love

I still remember that night, as if it was yesterday. I was still huffing, and catching my breath, when I plopped down on the berth. The old man, in front of me, smiled and said, “I’m glad you could make it. We were worried that you would miss this train, and after this one, there are no other trains for four days.” And he offered me the chips he was having. As I munched, on the chips, I could see the city moving past me, through the window. This mass of disorganized light, twinkling through the dark window glass.

He was right; I almost hadn’t made it. The day was Christmas Eve, five years back. The climate was weird; like almost every winter evening in Mumbai. The Air was heavy with the smell of the salty ocean. And I was stuck, in a traffic jam at Bandra Kurla complex for the last hour. The wind came from the direction of dharavi, carrying all the pollutants from there, along with it. The heat in the taxi was suffocating, and my time was running out.

I could see bus after bus, filled with drunken villagers, shouting political slogans, being directed by the police, along the highway. You see, this was no ordinary day. It was the day, that the so-called savior of India, the last hope of every Indian, the champion of the masses, had her rally at Shivaji Park.

And these buses, were full of her so called supporters, who had been brought from outside Bombay, in hired buses, just by promising them free food and booze.

I still had half an hour, to reach Dadar. And as the last of the buses, receded from view, I might just be able to make it. Now you already know, that I did make it to the train, and there is no need for me to labour on, and tell you how it happened. It suffices to say, that I had to jump in the running train, which would explain why I was huffing, when I sat in front of him.

I described the traffic jams, caused by these paid supporters, and he just smiled. He just looked at me with his wise eyes, and said:

“You might think, I’m joking, but I can’t really expect you to believe me. We were from a different era, when a leader was really a leader. People loved him, and came from faraway to see him. They would leave their offices, and come to hear him speak. Schools were closed, so that children could line the roads and see him go past.

I saw him on a sultry summer evening. He had landed at the Juhu airport, and was coming down to Bombay, to meet one of his old friends from the freedom struggle. Mind you, this was a time, when Bombay central, was really the center of Bombay, and Dadar, was considered the outskirts of the city. I had just finished an operation, and was cleaning, up, when I heard that he would be traveling along the road in front of my hospital.

I got out, and stood near the gate. There was already a big crowd there, waiting for him. I could see several thousands lining the street. The kids had flags their hands, and the Adults had equally awed expressions on their faces.

Finally I could see his motorcade, coming along. In those days, there were no security problems, and the leader was truly loved.
He just had one police escort, and he was traveling in an open-air convertible. Some people had flowers in their hands, and he passed, they threw it up in the air, so that the leader was greeted with a rain of flowers. He did love this adulation and seemed very happy, with the reception, his people were giving him.

A few feet away from me, was a maimed beggar, with no legs, sitting on his pushcart that he wheeled around in. In his hands he had a single rose. As the car arrived closer, he raised his hands, so that he could properly aim the flower, and at the right moment, he threw it.
I wasn’t the only one watching him. Even the great man, saw this touching act of affection and stopped the car.
He got down, and talked to the beggar. And more flowers rained down on the pauper and his great leader”

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On his Birth Anniversary, let me pay tribute to this great man, the architect of modern India.

This post is a part of the November madness programme that I am following, where I attempt to post one entry on this blog, everyday for the last 3 weeks of November.