“Are you awake, macha?” The booming voice and characteristic laughter was enough to disturb the sleep of even the most steadfast sleeper. “Let us arrange a bike, will you come with me?” More than a question, that was a request. “Where to Manja (as I used to call him)?” The electrician in our campus had apparently told him about a local mela in his locality. To which our amiable friend had promised that he would definitely attend.
Borrowing the bike from a friend ("Sada" used to be so passionate about his bike that he would never entertain such requests – but then, Manja had a knack of getting such things done!), the two of us were off by midnight. With great difficulty – the Lucknow winter did not make things easy, we finally managed to reach the place. This was a classical mela – they had Himalayas, including Mt. Kailas constructed as a tableaux, with people queuing up to pray (!), bhajan singing, honouring a “dada” called ‘kaala baalu’ (off went Manja and his raucous laughter causing more than a few concerned heads to turn!) and some songs sung by the “local” Mohd. Rafi. In the midst of all this, the electrician friend spotted Manja. His face just lit up (it had to be seen to be believed). He got us (“sahib logon ke liye”) steaming cups of chai.
Arming ourselves with bricks and stones – there were rumours that petty thugs occasionally waylay travelers, we reached the campus at around 3 AM.
But then, the happiness on the electrician’s face was worth the whole effort, was what Manja felt.
Borrowing the bike from a friend ("Sada" used to be so passionate about his bike that he would never entertain such requests – but then, Manja had a knack of getting such things done!), the two of us were off by midnight. With great difficulty – the Lucknow winter did not make things easy, we finally managed to reach the place. This was a classical mela – they had Himalayas, including Mt. Kailas constructed as a tableaux, with people queuing up to pray (!), bhajan singing, honouring a “dada” called ‘kaala baalu’ (off went Manja and his raucous laughter causing more than a few concerned heads to turn!) and some songs sung by the “local” Mohd. Rafi. In the midst of all this, the electrician friend spotted Manja. His face just lit up (it had to be seen to be believed). He got us (“sahib logon ke liye”) steaming cups of chai.
Arming ourselves with bricks and stones – there were rumours that petty thugs occasionally waylay travelers, we reached the campus at around 3 AM.
But then, the happiness on the electrician’s face was worth the whole effort, was what Manja felt.
That was Machaan. Barely 3 years hence, in the same badlands of UP, they killed him gruesomely, for doing his duty, snuffing out the blossoming flower, who considered it his duty to bring happiness and joy around him.
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1 comment:
Hmmm...I had thought about asking you about him. "It must have slipped my mind". Well..U know him so well, it must be a sadder story for you to dwell on, than for me. So guess, we will postpone our discussion for a later time.
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