Sunday, December 18, 2005

That was. This is.

‘Behti hui lehron ke saath to har koi tair leta hai,
Asli insaan wahi hai jo lehron ko cheerkar aage badhe’

These words from ‘Ghulam’ come running to my mind as I look at those five odd boats standing strong against the march of waters. The fishermen on the boat are holding onto the nets and traps which will bring food for their families. They ride the ocean like warriors, like men possessed.

Away from the noise of traffic and machines and life, the roar of the ocean brings peace to mind and the madness of wind makes you feel alive. The trees running along the beach as far the eyes can see and the huge waves jumping madly in the joy of having found the long lost shores make every heart fill with wild enthusiasm. Here on this earth almost every heart is gay.

There are no bikinis around and even men here prefer huge shorts (if we can call these as shorts, some are even in trousers or lowers). Girls give a cry of joy every time the waves kiss their feet. The Sarees and the Salwars get their share of sand and salt. Yes, this is also a beach, like any beach you would have seen in Baywatch and a small sunday crowd, unlike any crowd you could have seen in Baywatch.

Perfect place for few quite moments. No one to disturb, if you don’t consider that little kid who just won one rupee from me. At some places heaven do exist in this world. And still if you want the whole beach for yourself come here on any week day. No stalls or beach restaurants just few cycle peddlers trying to walk there cycles on the sand. It’s a beautiful day, as beautiful as any day can be.

Sitting half under the shadow of a boat I try to take in the vastness of the waters. The waters are happy, having found their ways from all around to be a part of the giant. Some hundred miles away the storm is gathering all the forces and is marching towards the land. The last one was kind and changed its path before bringing the destruction. It was BAAZ. Let’s pray FANOOS is also kind on mankind.

The boat seems to be out of use. Only being used by the kids to play and rarely acting as a ladies room. I look at the boat and that cardboard boat brings smile on my face. What a hard time we had getting those giants of card boards cut and then screwed (or rather bolted) together.

I don’t really remember the name of the play, was it Maut (death) or was it Ant (end). Bhool and Sharma were, and are, brilliant actors and we decided that the set won’t let them down this time. The event depicted in the play happens on a beach. So we got all this big card boards and some how managed to cut them into this huge boat shape. Screwing them together was a big trouble and those card boards kept on falling apart. Deepi, Hills and me had real tough time getting that boat ready and those stones, Ha!!, brown paper folded into spheres which were not so spherical. And that spray was an ingenious idea from Hills. It was our second year at IIT. We still had that RCA enthu in those days. The team effort paid, Sharma was best actor and Aravali second.
The white cloth with blue stripes of paint, the sound of waves coming from synth along with our upturned screwed up boat and more than many brown paper stones hardly made the stage look and sound like a beach. But once Sharma and Bhool weaved their magic, the beach had come alive.

The cycle peddler brings me back to Kakinada beach. The beach is getting livelier as the evening progresses. He wants me to buy something. He speaks Telugu and I can’t understand what he is selling. Being the only Sardar here every seller and beggar (though very few are here) is tempted to try their luck. I gave him two rupees without knowing what I am shopping. Moongphali it was.

The fishermen are pulling up their nets. Its getting dark and they have to get their catch to the beach, sort it out and move it to the market before it gets dark. It is time to go home.

Our card board boat looked beautiful just like this boat the kids are still playing with. We were proud of our effort. After the play was over we forgot the boat. It had served its purpose. Actually we had planned to bring back the boat to the hostel and keep it as a trophy for all those night outs we put in stitching it together. Someone must have made similar plans for this boat. The card boards must have burnt well in the winter night helping the security guard keep the cold away. This boat waits.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Hey Sunghs!!!
i posted my thoughts on ur 'hopping cream' blog.. lemme know if i m wrong!!!

apne yahan pe YM toh chalta nahi if u can use google talk...u r most welcome to have some arbit chatting.. he he h

sab changa idhar..


Sukhdev Singh is milking a buffalo when I call him. We are speaking after a long gap. His voice carries the same cheerful energy I remember....