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Shiva


The rag picker across the street by now was a familiar sight. He had encroached on the pavement opposite my house and I had a clear view of him from my window. Often as I sipped my morning tea by the window, he would be up and about rummaging the dustbin for things he could salvage and sell. We call it recycling.

My feeling on spotting him the first day was one of resentment. Surely we could do with lesser people encroaching our pavements I thought. Over time this Mori Road pavement became his home and he lived there with his wife, kid and a stray dog.  He was a tall man, lean, well built, dark in complexion with long locks of hair, and was at most times adorned in only a lungi drawn up to his knees. Which made me feel that he must be an immigrant from the south of India.

As days passed, we started to notice each other, me standing at the window and he perched on the pavement across the street. He would sometimes look up and grin at me and wave and while I had no intention of returning this "good morning" greeting, I would wave back half heartedly, just to be civil about things. More recently, it had become almost a morning ritual as we began to acknowledge each others presence.

But today as I got to the window, expecting to see him, things were not the usual. He was not there, and near the pavement across the street lay a man quite motionless. A sight like that in the morning is not a happy one. I noticed the man wore factory overalls and perhaps worked in one, was of fair complexion and the general disposition was of someone you don't quite expect to see lying on the street. "I hope he is not seriously ill " I thought to myself. "Or maybe he is just drunk and fallen by the wayside. Should be up and running in a while."

As I pondered over his state I saw my "morning friend" appear. He hovered over the man, and inspected him. While he did this, he looked up and our eyes met. But this time instead of waving he pointed to the man and shrugged his shoulders. I really wanted to say, "Splash some water on his face, you idiot" and I think he read my mind. He found water and splashed it on his face. No effect.  Then he tried to lift him and get him to sit, but the man's body was completely listless and it did not work. This got me a little more concerned.

I saw the rag picker now put his ear to the man's chest and listen. By this time I was anxious too. "I hope he hears a heartbeat or something " I prayed.  The next thing I noticed was that he was looking for a pulse and checking if he was breathing. Confused, he looked up at me hands on his hips, as if asking "Dude, any ideas what we can do now? " My mind started racing. Maybe I need to dial the emergency services. But where is the number. Of course, I maybe able to Google it or maybe I should just go down and check first….!

Except for the rag picker, the rest of Mori Road, passing by did not notice or want to take notice of the fallen man. Life had to move on. As all this was happening, I saw the rag picker walk up to Mama, our local constable. Mama was a constable with the Mahim police station and he had often been posted at our crossing. I knew him as Mama as the whole neighborhood called him.

After lot of gesturing, pointing and waving of arms, Mama seemed finally convinced, and came along with the rag picker to inspect the situation. He prodded the lifeless body with his stick and knelt down to inspect him more closely. It started to drizzle now and yet no movement. It had been a while at the window for me now. Mama and the rag picker now tried to shift the man and got him to a safer spot. “Must be alive” I thought.

Mama left, and as I sat by the window reading the morning paper, I saw the rag picker sit cross-legged near the man almost as if he was keeping a vigil on him. Morning became mid morning and the drizzle gave way to a bright sun. Occasionally he would keep splashing water on his face expecting him to move. The strong afternoon sun was out now. I noticed the rag picker open up a tattered umbrella and this shadow sheltered the man.

One more splash of water and finally !! The man moved his arms. The rag picker yelped and jumped up, dancing around the man. He yelled and Mama came running back. Together, they tried to feed him some water and while he coughed it up violently, bit by bit he sipped the water. The man supported by them now was made to sit and the rag picker offered him a piece of bread, almost as if the man was a guest in his homeless home. This accomplished, the rag picker looked up at my window now, found me there, and again that wide grin and a wave of the hand. We had missed our customary "good morning" today and he seemed to say "better late than never".  For the first time I smiled and waved back happily.

In the evening as I went down to run errands for the house, I saw the rag picker.  He grinned at me and I smiled back. We took a few steps towards each other and I asked him "So was he drunk or just ill?" "Drunk, stone drunk, but the fellow needed help" he said. "What's your name " I asked instinctively. "Shiva" he said, as he stepped up to greet me. "They all call me Shiva here. I need to go now, have to take my dog for his walk" he grinned again. This time at close quarters his grin seemed almost mesmerizing. And with that he disappeared, almost in a flash.

The next day was Mahalaya. Our family was up early to catch the chants of the Chandi. As    dawn broke, I saw him down there grinning and waving. I grinned this time at him too and waved back a full hand. Suddenly I realized that I did not resent him anymore. I was somehow happy to see him there.

My wife asked "Who are you waving to this early in the morning?" "Shiva" I replied. "Shiva? Shiva who?" she asked. "The one you will go searching for in the temple this morning" I blurted out rather instinctively. "I don't know what it is with you. Every Mahalaya it gets more weird than the previous one and this time you are making fun of the Almighty on this day!  Come get your breakfast. We have lots of work to do. Puja is around the corner”.

Happy Mahalaya folks. Mori Road never ceases to amuse me. You never know who you will meet next and in what way. Meeting Shiva was great. Happy Puja Folks. Have a blast!

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