Wednesday, June 25, 2014
Sunday, June 22, 2014
It's been a good 8 weeks in India and time seems to take a new paradigm in the land of Charminar. I travel a neat 45 minutes in the four wheeler to drop off the kid at school and walk into what seems like an ocean of white ( accented with green) clad boys and girls with bright faces. Some of them spot tell tale signs of adolescence - tall lanky frames, facial hair and acne punctuated features, with endless limbs. Some linger in the threshold of babyness and childhood sporting chubby cheeks, rotund midriffs and a gait that resembles that of 'Baloo the Bear' from Jungle Book. Bright yellow school busses form serpentine lines, much like railway carriages attached with vestibules, leaving narrow crannies between them for these endless army of children and the occasional parent like me that march in. Parents and caregivers walk past with a brisk gait and a preoccupation of getting back to work or chores, looking through the passersby in an absentminded gaze. As I drift past the huge blocks of structures that house these bright faces, traces of sanskrit hymns sung in perfect melody travel through the senses, engulfing the being with a warmth that seeps through the ears. The vastness of the campus, the stacks of concrete, the generous ground sprinkled with random nets, poles and basket ball hoops suck me into a surreal world that seems to exist independently on its own. A little world wrapped into the coziness of a campus, ironically, in that very expanse. Random vehicles form a bedlam and a griddle lock that never seems to melt, but somewhere, somehow, it all keeps moving ahead. I pause and fill my lungs with a greedy breath and look around. A middle school guy wishes me "Good Morning Ma'am" probably mistaking me for one of the staff members and quickly, like a fragrance penetrating into thin air, a cluster of "Good Mornings" follow. I turn back, my gaze peeping through the thick, tinted lenses of my coolers and let out a laugh and acknowledge the greeting. It would be a few minutes past the hour, and the campus with the numerous maintenance staff wrapped in fluid bottle green and black bordered sarees, accessorized with bright skins and striking bindis try and maintain the harmony while kids of all shapes, sizes and ages walk in with hopes to get armed to take over the world. I walk to the entrance and look back, enthralled at this whole arrangement that whispers inspiration into my otherwise mundane routine.