PASSERS BY!

PASSERS-BY! 

by Jacqueline Colaco

I’m fortunate to live in a bungalow near Bangalore East Station which boasts a ‘tuck away’ portico in the rear, from where I can observe the world but am not that visible to it, seated among my hundred plus potted plants which nestle ‘neath the spread of a large mango tree. Viewing passers-by therefore comprise an interesting pastime for me…

Daily in my front yard around 7 am, I first wing a prayer upwards in thanks for the night that has been and for a good day to be, while simultaneously admire the sky. If lucky, I spot a flock of birds flying around! Thereafter I greet the flow of exercise enthusiasts and canine walkers from across my wall, as I go through my own form of fitness routine. Within this half hour comes along the flower garland seller balancing his large bamboo basket expertly on his cycle carrier, followed by the milkmen alerting us with their special horns or thumps on the gates, and the newspaper delivery boys flying past on bikes flinging these like missiles, though without a glance at where they’re aiming. Once my lot thumped me straight in the chest! Rushing too are weary parents dragging reluctant youngsters hauling backpacks as large as themselves, to catch school buses at the nearby circle as also IT folk off to work, identifiable by trademark laptop bags. Public buses and school vans vroom by like kings of the road, halting at will and with no consideration of pedestrians, while many thoughtless two wheelers and four, similarly treat this road as a race track and often sadly ignore the one way rule as well. On a lucky day, the garbage collectors do make their appearance, but it is disturbing to observe rag pickers precede them to rummage in the bags for an odd find of plastic or metal discards…

     Mid morning as I move to the portico to read, write or chat with visitors I notice a different variety in the passers-by. Vendors struggle to push carts peddling loads of vegetables or other eatables. The fish seller cycles the rounds and expertly weighs, cleans and sells his produce in a jiffy, leaving no traces of scales or offal behind under our strict instructions. Offers from others range from carpets (still can’t figure why anyone would buy this item off a roadside hawker!) to colourful plastic ware, toys and thingummies, vessels and potted plants. Often the seller is lost under his wares, so loaded are they on his cycle! For repairs, the mattresswallah and the knife sharpener expert deliver at your doorstep; and to help clear clutter, the raddiwallahs pass by in plenty. Sophisticated salespersons, in looks and smart attire at least, are in no dearth, and if I have time invite them in to recite their spiel, trained as they are with that special US of A accent but naturally blended with the local! I did thus pick up a set of Oxford dictionaries once for a song! Sanitary napkins of course are not up my street at age 64, but the young ladies are so turned on like machines, that undiscerning, they spit out their sales talk into every ear that listens to them.

    Occasionally I spy a camel or a horse and jutkas too, enjoying these sights which are rare nowadays. The ‘holy’ bull and bell is regular to bestow blessings followed by an outstretched hand for an offering. Last Christmastide I witnessed a brace of ducks being led past, ending up probably to grace some festival dinners! Cows amble along in abundance foraging in banquets of garbage dumps that dot the road.

Funeral processions are passé, this being the route to the cemetery, ranging from sombre to noisy with bands, fireworks and dancing; sometimes with intoxicated mourners swaying in tow, obviously having drowned their sorrows. At times too I observe ostentatious corteges with the deceased mounted on a truck bedecked with colourful floral garlands, while in striking contrast one cannot help glance at funerals of the poor huddled in a BBMP hearse around the corpse.

    Neighbours pass by too through the day and look out for me to exchange a nod. Such a mix and match of passers-by that keeps me in thrall!