What was Her Name?

i was walking through an empty road that flanked duplex houses on both sides of a posh colony admiring the beautiful homes with their creative gardens and prim lawns. Was also wondering about the rich people living behind those squeaky clean French windows. The drapes of which moved gently to the rhythm of the central air conditioning, perhaps.
Right from their impressive custom made wrought-iron gate to the name plate to the architectural design of the duplex and the landscaping, each house looked unique in it's blend of modern cum ethnic. i walked along, full of admiration on the one hand and trying to make a mental note of all the new fusion on the other hand and thought, " Maybe i should take a picture of the best looking house. Later when i plan to have one of my own the picture could come in handy as a visual that would remind me to incorporate some of the creative, Eco-friendly and functional aspects.
i could also improvise and accommodate some of these combinations of hedges, ornamental grasses, vines, succulents and garden flowers... on whatever size the plot is..."
Building castles in the air never felt so good.

Can i take a picture?
Will someone object?
Let's see if i can take permission...perhaps compliment them for their good taste in designing their dream home.


Alas! singling out one which could be the best of the ten or so was not an easy task for my discerning eye.

Then something...some sound...some movement behind me jolted me out of my reverie.
i paused and realized all of a sudden that i was not alone on that empty, quiet road. Someone, something was following me and i don't know since WHEN.
i would've panicked but not this time. There were figures behind those designer gates hovering around the shiny luxury automobiles. So help was at hand. Besides the faint sound was not intimidating or frightening at all. It sounded more like a timid scuttle and i think i heard something that did not growl or hiss but gurgled in between some whimpering, like an infant.

Naturally, i was not surprised, not really to see my stalkers. The eldest of the threesome holding her younger brother refused to return my smile. But the kid sister hid shyly behind her elder sister clutching on to her shirt with one hand while the other touched her shoulder and smiled back at me. The gurgling/whimpering perhaps had come from the toddler who seemed rather annoyed to see a stranger woman in spectacles instead of his mother. i tried striking a conversation by asking them if they were wondering who i was and what i was wanting to do with that device in my hand. The elder did not respond but the younger nodded a shy affirmative.

 i was eager to wipe that look that seemed part angry, part questioning and largely sad . i tried another attempt to make her feel comfortable. So started explaining my intention, that of taking a picture of one beautiful house with a garden but was finding it very difficult to decide. The girl stood listening without uttering a word. i was not even sure if she understood me clearly. The younger kid sister showing more joi de vivre than her sibling, popping out her face a wee bit more and thus i could discern the resemblance among the siblings. The kid sister was all full of shy smiles. But the girl whom i was hell bent on placating stood with the same expression. Her thin body just shaking in inertia to the jerks of her baby brother's kicking legs.

i could see no flicker in her eyes nor any movement in her facial muscle that could convey what she was feeling. Was she pleased or displeased with my gesture? i had no clue. For she donned the same part angry, part questioning and largely sad look.

My final attempt sounded something like this-'' Okay shall i take a photo of yours and show you how you look in a photo?"

My final elicited yet another nod but not a twitch for a smile. The kid sister continued to compensate for her.

  

This was how the picture was shot and i feel at a loss that there was no way i could capture the moment when a natural and the most beautiful smile transformed her countenance in a manner like she's just jolted out of some strange spell and is all bright and pink of spirits. Another Snow-white !!

 i heaved inwardly hearing my own sigh of relief. She warmed up to life by kissing her own picture with her smiling eyes. 

Alas! that smile happened only when she was peering into the camera and viewing her image along with her siblings. She kept smiling and looking at her serious picture and it felt awkward and harsh pulling the camera and my hand that held the camera away from her smiling face. 

That idea to take the picture of the most beautiful house then fizzled out and for sometime we just walked together. There were no conversations just companionship. i don't know what she was thinking but i knew what was going on inside me.

 i was conjuring the shape of the emaciated woman, the mother, who perhaps was performing chores behind those custom made doors. i was also thinking about this girl who could be anything between five to eight and was already a surrogate mother of two when she should be playing hopscotch with her friends.

Then i was imagining her in some other life where she is sitting in a pink frilled frock of silk,  satin ribbons and soft lace. Sitting nice and snug on the lap of her mother/father and listening  enraptured to the story of Snow White and The Seven Dwarfs being read out to her from a big colorful cut out book which shows her the various characters in motion

When i took her picture it was never my intention to make her the subject for my blog. Mainly because i feel responsible for her plight. i feel responsible for her anger, her questioning and her sadness.

i have not been able to forget her and would not exaggerate or lie to say that she's always on my mind. But she creeps into my thoughts suddenly when i seem to be having a peaceful and a jolly good time. 

There is a strange feeling then of guilt mixed with remorse and i keep asking myself, "What if it was me instead of her? How could i go on like this living my life and not do anything about it...?"

It feels rather cruel to keep counting my blessings. i would rather that she and every SHE who becomes a mother to her siblings from infancy-any age should be me.

Was it her passive, reticent self then that prevented me, of all the people, from asking for her name.

 Me who has a thing for knowing names to the extent of peering into the badges of people in the service sector and address them by their names if i have to ask them anything.

Me who hunts and researches to know the names of the trees, the plants, the birds and insects...and efforts even more to remember them. Why did i fail/ not bother to ask her name?

 And i hope that she who was sharing the burden of running the family along with her mother is not called NAKUSA.

http://epaper.timesofindia.com/Repository/ml.asp?Ref=VE9JQS8yMDExLzA5LzA0I0FyMDE2MDE=&Mode=Gif&Locale=english-skin-custom

i hope that when food is distributed at home she gets her fair share of whatever there is .

i hope if and when she plays truant to her chores, she is not flogged mercilessly.

i hope the brother whom she balanced on her bony waist remembers her service and sacrifice when he grows up.

i hope that boy of a brother is not pampered enough since he is a male to become a rascal who survives on his sister's earnings.

i hope she is not a victim of abuse and molestation.

i hope and hope...

i hope she is not  expendable... 

And i hope she has been named well. Something that does not make her wonder why she was allowed to be born if she was UNWANTED.

Before i can quit i have to shake off the sadness that surrounds me and as usual a poetry would be ideal. This one is by a highly respected living Urdu poet, a lady who is often invited to India to recite her enigmatic but powerful compositions. Zehra Nigah http://www.hindu.com/lr/2004/11/07/stories/2004110700230300.htm. 

i have read from the newspapers that some of her compositions have been translated in English by Rakshanda Jalil.

http://www.thefridaytimes.com/beta2/tft/article.php?issue=20110909&page=20

i don't know any except this one which is most recited and often quoted called 'Samjhauta'.

Samjhauta means compromise.

It goes like this...

Mulayam garam samjhaute ki chadar

Yeh chadar mein ne barson mein buni hai

Kahin bhi sach ke gul boote nahin hai

Kissi bhi jhooth ka taanka nahin hai

Issi se mein bhi tan dhak loongi apna

Issi se tum bhi aasooda rahoge

Na kush hoge, na pashmanda hoge.

Translated in English it should be like this...

"Warm and soft, this blanket

Of compromise has taken me years to weave

Not a single flower of truth embellishes it

Not a single false stitch betrays it

It will do to cover my body though

And it will bring comfort too,

If not joy, nor sadness to you."

http://www.outlookindia.com/article.aspx?220507

http://satyameva-jayate.org/2011/04/01/girl-child-sex-ratio/

http://www.outlookindia.com/article.aspx?220507

Image courtesy: http://www.fotosearch.com/CSP441/k4410127/

     

  

About Book Manners and Used Books

Yesterday i got my first delivery from this online library that i have subscribed to, last week.

 It's funny that more than me it is my husband who is humming away in glory and happiness when books and him are miles apart.
Actually the online library was his find too when we were at the Book Fair last Sunday.
While i was engrossed browsing over books he was checking out this stall 1F of Hall 12A@ Delhi Book Fair 2011.

http://www.indiareads.com/

Two hours later we came home apparently with a tiny paper bag that held some stationary like self sticking Post its and a couple of very reasonably priced simple Indian cooking recipe books in Hindi for my new cook who thank heavens, has shown the interest and inclination to read and learn too apart from live demonstration from me.
As for me i carried a receipt voucher in my purse (courtesy my husband) that promised endless number of books to be delivered right at my doorstep as per my request and my reading speed.
My husband was content with the browsing and although seemed book less was the richest among the three of us.
For he beamed with the satisfaction of a hungry man who has just had his belly full with the choicest of meals.
i was as usual feeling incomplete.
My mind was still stuck on copies that i wanted to possess and was eager to go back again.

i logged on to indiareads.com, prioritized my selection logged off and carried on with my own copy of Sons and Lovers by D.H. Lawrence. Later forgot all about my online library and it's membership.

But yesterday i was impressed. True to what the bright and studious looking girl named Gunjan at the stall had mentioned, i got my first lot of two books in 2 days flat. That is, i had logged on Sunday, submitted my request on priority basis and here it was, a neat yellow parcel,  hand delivered to me on Tuesday.
i carefully opened the parcel not to damage it beyond usage to find fresh neat copies of my two books, another fresh empty yellow folder and a neatly folded note inside.
-the fresh yellow folder to be used when i requested a pick up.
-the note that not only welcomed me with kind words to the online library membership but also gave instructions to handle the book carefully.

i would love to quote the instructions because a lot many of us lack book manners and a quick checklist should do no harm.

* Read with clean hands-oil, grease or haldi marks on pages are very annoying.


* Support the covers when propping books open, they can tear.


* Want to save your page? Don't dog ear the books or lay them flat on a surface. Do not mark, fold,crease or use sticky notes or paper clips; Try some bookmarks instead.


* Read books using your hands or lap to hold or support them.


* Keep drinks, food and tobacco away from all reading materials. No one likes to receive books that are stained or smelly.


* Do not mark, underline or doodle on the book.


* Avoid carrying several books at a time and dropping them; carrying single books helps books' spines tight and their pages without crinkles.


* Shelve and store your books away from pets and small children. They may not know realize the importance of books yet, but we are sure you do.

i still had a few more pages to finish of my Sons and Lovers but was tempted to pick up the newly arrived thriller as Paul's failure to commit to his girls was getting on my nerves.
i reach out for one of my own book marks that i have collected from Landmark , propped the cushions to my comfort and read all that the covers had to say about the book. Felt instantly that it is the kind that should see me and the book as inseparables but then kept my excitement low. i have known through these brief years of my reading that i cannot predict a book by just it's covers and all those words of acclaim.
For i have in my possession some of the Booker Prized books. Attempted but left half way or even before that.

Getting started, i turned the cover and was warmed by the sensible gesture of the INDIAreads team to provide me with their own book mark.
i checked the other book too and just there it was...another correctly sized book mark. So they not only send you neat books but also encourage you to be book mannered.
i was impressed even more and was now feeling thankful, genuinely, towards my husband.

True to what the covers had proclaimed i was hooked to the thriller. Sure was finding it "Gripping, chilling but also moving."
And then it was on page 19 that i stopped.

Kept the book aside and started imagining the hands that held the book before me.
Was it a him or a her?
Must be keen on learning words and their meanings to have marked with ball pen the uncommon words.
nonplussed
Yeah it's a good word, must use it too...would help to make my own sentences impressive.
i continued to read and pause on all the pages that had blue circles and underlines.

Then the thoughts turned tangent and i stopped reading.

So when i return the books will they think that i have done this to their fresh and neat book ?
Must make a list of pages on which the act has been committed and inform the team.
Much to my chagrin when i was actually finding those circles helpful i was troubled with the thought that the act should not be pinned on to me.
i stopped reading and quickly flipped through the pages to see if there were more.
Maybe just as i had abandoned my D.H. Lawrence i guess the reader who had doodled and circled 8 times had abandoned the book too. Strangely after page 110 there was no underlining or circling excepting on page 199 and 201 which was dog eared. The pages were clean. i sensed a sudden but dull ebb in my excitement about the book. Does it start with a bang and get monotonous and boring later?
Perhaps it doesn't and maybe the reader just couldn't finish the book due to other pressing engagements.
Happens to most readers so i need not be so pessimistic.

Maybe the reader who doodled and marked had not dog eared. The dog earing was by another reader who did not doodle or mark.

Wait a minute...the crime was committed in the story of the book then why am i on a psycho analyzing spree???

There were two conflicting emotions here even when i was just reading a book. And a neat reader that i am who covers her books with transparent film as soon as she brings a new book home and always uses a book mark was not a bit annoyed with those circles and underlines as i have mentioned earlier.

Not that i am defending the mark maker or justifying bad book manners.

The reason could be that i grew up on my reading through my Papa's. He is a voracious reader and his books are a delight to me because he not only underlines but does referencing in his neat tiny handwriting along the sides. But of course all this on his own copies. i have found his copies extremely enjoyable and thoroughly rewarding.
Or perhaps i am that kind of a reader who doesn't mind doodled books provided the doodles are like my Papa's.
His books are read with utmost sentimentality in the manner of a daughter who wants to follow her father and grab as much as she can from her Guru.
It is shameful and heaven knows how i could let words slip from my leathery tongue when he was recovering from his illness.
i told him, " Papa in your will please remember to leave some of your books to me..."
For the collector that i am, his books would be like one of those rare and priceless signed and doodled by authors' book.

i am just like that.
... a reader who possesses good reading manners...yet unable to perceive and condemn the fellow invisible readers as bad mannered.

A freshly smelling of print ink new copy delights me but i am also comfortable with dog-eared, pencil/pen marked, colorfully highlighted, musty odored, second hand old copies too.
There is a warm sense of wonder coupled with enigma in a used book. For a while it is a pleasure to imagine the hands that drew those circles over the words or highlighted a phrase. The warmth emanating from the fact that many of us do make use of words and phrases that are not originally ours but have caught our fancy while reading a book.
For instance in this particular book i liked the thought," ...all the gestures we think are our own belong to other people too."
But of course i do not underline or highlight. In order to keep it in my memory i have this habit of scribbling words and phrases that catch my fancy in a note pad.

Then the used book is always springing some surprise. You never know what might jump out of the printed page and look you straight in the eyes. Sometimes you turn away in disdain wondering if the reader was evil and at other times you smile at the humor he or she possessed.

Actually i am unable to reason it out myself. Whether i am a reader less and collector more or vice versa.
Obviously when i am myself not so sure how can i expect my husband to perceive that apart from reading i also like to collect books.
Moreover when i choose my readable s i take care to get a copy which has fonts suitable for my eyesight which i'm afraid no longer holds me in good stead.
Even my father's copy of my favorite Ayan Rand was strenuous.
Thus although i am assured of my endless supply i could not be as sure of the kind of copy i would be comfortable with.
Maybe that's why i was unable to thank my husband enough in the first instance when he paid for the subscription and handed me the membership card.
But now i realize he only meant well. The temporary apartment is small and lacking in space to hold more books so for the time being i feel happy that he made that effort to satisfy my fifty percent need.
The next  fifty person will also come by at the appointed time when space is not a problem i guess.
i have this desire to have a study one day with a whole wall covered with books, a soft and comfy couch by the window and a working table in the center of the room with a couple of chairs. And if all that is not possible then just a wall covered with books will suffice.

i should go back to my thriller now to find out how the clever and principled psychologist Kit Quinn is coping with her honesty and sincerity which has already antagonized her colleague. Let me find out if she is able to stand for her convictions or the system that wants credits for fake case solving buckles her down.Or better still if she is heading towards the wrong direction totally in her assessment that the pervert is not the killer.
Let me find all this out and also get tested on my own vocabulary by that faceless reader who has circled and underlined good words till page number 110.

The song featuring Jose Gonzalez caught my fancy only when i saw the movie 'The Blind Side'. Awesome music with some great cello and good lyrics and since my post was about books would love to share this here on my page. Trust anybody who loves good music with great lyrics to never get tired of listening to it.  The lovely soft and soothing voice...the cello...the humming synchronizing with the cello... ideal setting when you decide to chuck everything and curl up with your book instead.
No! No! the song is not about books but rather performed by the American duo Paul de Jong and Nick Zammuto. Popularly known as THE BOOKS. The Books have received critical acclaim for combining obscure sounds with great acoustics. 

This song by Nick Drake is called 'The Cello Song" and this version by The Books features Jose Gonzalez.
http://www.thebooksmusic.com/welcome_mat.htm
http://www.allmusic.com/artist/nick-drake-p1963
http://www.jose-gonzalez.com/


Lyrics: The Cello Song


Strange face, with your eyes
So pale and sincere.
Underneath you know well
You have nothing to fear.
For the dreams that came to you when you're young
Told of a life
Where spring has sprung.

You would seem so frail
In the cold of the night
When the armies of emotion
Go out on to fight.
But while the earth sinks to its grave
You sail to the sky
On the crest of a wave.

So forget this cruel world
Where I belong
I'll just sit and wait
Singing my song.
And if one day you should see me in the crowd
Lend a hand and lift me
To your place in the cloud.

Image courtesy:
http://www.clipartof.com/portfolio/bnpdesignstudio/illustration/woman-storing-old-books-1052799.html
http://depositphotos.com/3699706/stock-photo-Books-collection.html