Monday, June 29, 2015

Homeless-Diaspora


This briefly perceived, incalculable violent dyspepsia of the mind, as far as I can recall.

On our way to this purlieu, me and my friend, with a sigh to this cold blush of wind that blew pass by my face, in this scotching heat that roofed me up, as much it(nature) goofed me up. Followed by a conversational gossip to this laundry man's house (Dhobi Waala), which was just a walk away, across the road, from my home. The only thing that divided us was the road that stood parallel in between the demarcated residential plots.

A layered piece of cloth, covering half of the entrance, watching him seated in an old wicker rocker which was there, I called him, he withdrew his glance from the newspaper and looked at us. Handing him over with this shirt on a hanger, that was of my friend, who had to get it ironed, and then leave for work, straight from my place. We waited there, outside his place,

Mud all around, fallen laid these dead dried leaves, in between the partly grass grown deserted piece of land. Cemented, demented, bended & cracked walls, overlapped and hidden by these several sheets of fabric with holes of all size and shapes. A red bicycle, a broken stool, a wood bench and this mirror on one of those walls, with a comb and a sink and soap kept. Never ever did I got the chance to go invading there privacy and explore. I would always stand outside, whenever I was to come to them. The not so convincing blue temporary asbestos sheet roof that had forcefully covered the holding walls. There were no proper doors, only sheets of fabric converted curtains that demarcated the entrance keeping there inferior & insufficient state of privacy to these hidden shades of grey. There were as many as eight or more of them living in that small place, i wondered how they managed & survived?, asking to myself. Piled up pieces of laundry kept all tied up in a knotted big cloth, a short and a blouse, a saree, washed & hung to dry.

We stood there, waiting for the task to get finished real quick until we were handed over with this shirt nicely ironed. We were on our way back. As I approached my friend to return him this balance, that I had got back from the laundry man but to my surprise and utter confusion, the only thing I was holding on to was this shirt on the hanger. I tried to look around, terrified by the fact that, that there was no one beside me, neither my friend, nor the laundry man or any remains of his house and belongings. Everything else had just vanished. Numbed to this very sight, I could not move my foot no more, no matter how hard I tried to escape and move away from this place towards my home. As if something or someone strangled me, tied me up, and was not letting me leave. All I could hear was this police van siren, that came from somewhere far, the wind, started playing its tactics, blowing the shirt away from my hand & all of a sudden making it invisible the next minute. Tightly holding on to this wooden hanger, I stood there in a lost & fearful fit.

Seconds later, in a snap, I was rescued, waking up to this alertness, away from this weird illusion that I had been dreaming, I woke up, looking around, seeing this hanger kept aside on my bed, next to this pillow. I picked it up & peaked outside the window to watch the laundry mans whereabouts. Thankfully it was there intact. I took a sigh of relief, trying to adjust to what just happened. my phone rung, thankfully this one was not the police van siren but a caller tune. It was my friend, I picked up my phone, and before even I could tell him what I went through, he asked - did you got my shirt? Shaken & stirred once again, I starred looking at the phone & even before I could actually figure out anything, the phone hung & I realized, it was a dream, just followed by another. (dream in a dream) or a state of sleep paralysis.

Most people think that shadows follow, precede, or surround beings or objects. The truth is that they also surround words, ideas, desires, deeds, impulses and memories.

"Loss, estrangement, and distance-and a mood finely poised between melancholy and melodrama.”

Remembering back all sort of moments, that I grew up to. In my childhood, when I played here with other kids (it was a piece of land that was more of a park then) Even these laundry guy's children used to play with us. we enjoyed, we fought, laughed and cried. Though I was a shy kinds, and did not mixed up that well. Still there I use to have as little time as I could. From Ice cream vendors, candy man, the camera guy, the balloon sellers...everyone would come to this place standing and watching us play while selling things. We as kids had this curiosity to buy and get something or the other by hook or crook, specially when we watched others doing so. I remember I used to look at those less deserving ones who would stare but not get anything, as they watched us. Although they would join us & share there excitement and be a part of the games we played together. There were days when we used to get our clothes ironed from there.

My dog, when died, was buried in the same very ground. All this while, I thought his soul stood there, and safeguarded us. May he rest in peace. 

Life is a tragedy when seen in close-up, but a comedy in long-shot.

Today, after all those years, This house was being demolished, and along with it all the memories of mental, physical and emotional time spent, came down a memory lane as a film was being rolled in our minds and hearts. We were leaving something, that we had much longed for before, but no more shall we be seeing this piece of land in the same way that had our foots running down way back once. 

The hammer harnessed those weak cemented walls, letting those bricks fall at once, the roof that pampered the souls, was tampered and thrown away on the same very ground, that had seen the family unite, siblings grow, get married, and bear children.

The separation from a place, where they once lived for all there life(almost 50 years), & now having to lose a home, uprooted & strangled on the road with there belongings. A sight of grief sicken agony that had melted all the fond remembrance with visible-invisible tears, that could no longer quench a deserted home. Being sucked deeper & making it so hollow, one could possibly retaliate to no outcome. Never had one thought one would have to witness this very day.

Everything just became so small. words could barely express it. Utensils, trunks, bed, Almira(wardrobe) and all other belongings, were on the road. The privacy of a house and there people just went through a public appearance. As if everything was there lying on the road, and now everyone was going to bid for it one by one, and the highest bidder would take it all. This Goddess Lakshmi's photograph framed/mounted, that was the last thing I saw, hanging in there on those walls now lay deserted with no more pillars to hold a roof which had fallen apart. It was a court’s order to vacate the premise & now in possession  of a complete stranger. The place demolished to the core with everything thrown away. The deserted land seemed more thirsty then before, It had attentively brighten up with sunlight. ‘if at all it could turn into gold and sufficed the greedy lots or suffice the less deserved’. The rest of the stuff, which could not find its place nowhere else, was kept layered and walled next to my house & it seemed like, as if the wall had sympathized with there burden & lend them a shoulder to lean on to.

There eyes kept watching it happen (being buried to the ground), while they sorted there belongings, completely exhausted in a ridiculed state of diaspora so homeless. There eyes were half of the usual size and now dried, after all day venting, loathing & crying and suffering the misery of being thrown out, there was something inside weeping. 

“We can take a lot more, we the stoic nation with its legendary sang-froid."

A chain tied, fencing-locking down the whole area and a lower cemented boundary wall erected, while police vans, court officials & people from the neighborhood stood there watching. Few consoling the worried homeless & others interested about there petite self-centred presumptuous justifications, exploring possibilities about the parking space that had gone away. 

The moon shone resplendently above us - its splendid aureola seemed suffused with stolen aurorean light. It was terrible sight of plight to watch it all day long, and seeing the homeless ones  on the street adjusting there paraphernalia in the darkness of night. Trying to find a place to secure themselves & there belongings & to cook a meal & feed themselves with, hit the bed & rest in peace. It wont be a easy burial & denial of all that was passe or things in stored in future.

"I'm just tired; I just want the world to be quiet for a bit". ―Matthew Healy

Sadly I was a witness to this very plight for it was just across the window, off the road & its been 37 years, of my watching it over, every single day. The day has been a real lazy one and I feel lymphatic accordingly. - Anonymous
 

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