Here People Walk in Their Sleep, Jaanu Nagar
The day dissolved amidst the clutter of "bring this", "buy that". No time to be still and talk. No respite. Evening softly descended upon the accumulations of the day. Bulbs hanging from the poles lining the street lit up, spreading a white glow. Lights shone out into the darkness from the houses made with rolled out bamboo mats. Grass that had sprouted on the unpaved lanes looked thick in the dark. I'm inside. Noises and sounds from the neighbouring houses are so close that they seem to be rising from the dark corners inside my own room. It's my first night in Ghevra.
My heart was restless; I wanted to roam outside, to walk in the streets that were dripping with darkness. But, unable to leave my things unattended, I held back. I sat down, trying to reign in the images of the outside that kept forming in my mind. Sounds from outside hovered around the objects in the house, playing hide and seek with me in the darkness. I opened my eyes fully, trying to dilate my pupils and be watchful. I would perk up and become more attentive each time someone walked past my door.
Across the lane was a door. A cot was lain in front of it. A young boy lay on it, and a woman, about 45 years old, her ears covered by her woollen shawl, sat beside him. They were both immersed in the serial being telecast. The night kept swelling and deepening.
Piercing through the darkness, a sound reached my ears. Someone was standing at my door, looking at me. He seemed to be calling out, "Son! Son!" into the dark.
"Are you calling me?" I asked.
"Yes, you," he said. He looked over his shoulder and came near me. Then, without any preface, he offered me a quilt for the night.
"Why? Does one feel very cold at night here?" I asked.
"Yes," he said, "There is no construction till far; the place is open from all sides. People walk in their sleep."
"What do you mean?" I asked nervously.
"Be watchful of your things," he advised me. "Make sure they are safe. Call me if you need anything. Don't be shy."
I nodded silently. Here people walk in their sleep, they enter houses. I cast a glance over my things again and checked the time in my wrist watch. It was 10:00 PM.
I had barely stretched my legs and rested my back when I heard voices from the lane, "Look how these photographs have been strung together with a thread and hung here in the lane! Lets see who all have been hung in the lane in them... " I sat up. What if these are people walking in their sleep! Light from an opening in a neighbouring house cast a soft glow in the street.
"Look! This woman lying on the cycle rickshaw is the daughter of the wine seller!" One voice said.
"Who? The one who lived in Nangla?" The other asked.
"Yes," replied the first, "the ones who had come from Gujarat."
I lay down again. Sounds from outside continued to stumble into my room. Surrounded by them, I remained entangled in them for a long time. Slowly, I wandered into light sleep.
"The water tanker is here!"
I woke up with a start.
The voices kept calling, "The water tanker has arrived!"
"It's stopped in front of G Block!"
Many people were running. The sounds of their feet outside my door felt like they were walking around me, running into my room and out of it, emerging from the darkness, dissolving into it. A woman's voice echoed for a long time in my ears.
I checked the time in my wrist watch again. More than half the night had been crossed. My sleep seemed to have lost its way in the dark tonight. My body was exhausted; I lay absolutely still.
"Thwack!" A sharp sound of bamboo hitting bamboo. I sat up with a start and looked out, the sound still resonating in my body. A boy had opened the door of his house and stepped out. I looked closely. His eyes were shut. He stumbled about, his feet feeling their way on the grass, as if independent of his mind. He squatted on the ground to urinate. I could make out from the way he was squatting that he was asleep. He got up with a jerk and stumbled back towards his room. Then he shut the bamboo mat door of his house, just like his eyes were shut all the while.
03 November 2007
Across the lane was a door. A cot was lain in front of it. A young boy lay on it, and a woman, about 45 years old, her ears covered by her woollen shawl, sat beside him. They were both immersed in the serial being telecast. The night kept swelling and deepening.
Piercing through the darkness, a sound reached my ears. Someone was standing at my door, looking at me. He seemed to be calling out, "Son! Son!" into the dark.
"Are you calling me?" I asked.
"Yes, you," he said. He looked over his shoulder and came near me. Then, without any preface, he offered me a quilt for the night.
"Why? Does one feel very cold at night here?" I asked.
"Yes," he said, "There is no construction till far; the place is open from all sides. People walk in their sleep."
"What do you mean?" I asked nervously.
"Be watchful of your things," he advised me. "Make sure they are safe. Call me if you need anything. Don't be shy."
I nodded silently. Here people walk in their sleep, they enter houses. I cast a glance over my things again and checked the time in my wrist watch. It was 10:00 PM.
I had barely stretched my legs and rested my back when I heard voices from the lane, "Look how these photographs have been strung together with a thread and hung here in the lane! Lets see who all have been hung in the lane in them... " I sat up. What if these are people walking in their sleep! Light from an opening in a neighbouring house cast a soft glow in the street.
"Look! This woman lying on the cycle rickshaw is the daughter of the wine seller!" One voice said.
"Who? The one who lived in Nangla?" The other asked.
"Yes," replied the first, "the ones who had come from Gujarat."
I lay down again. Sounds from outside continued to stumble into my room. Surrounded by them, I remained entangled in them for a long time. Slowly, I wandered into light sleep.
"The water tanker is here!"
I woke up with a start.
The voices kept calling, "The water tanker has arrived!"
"It's stopped in front of G Block!"
Many people were running. The sounds of their feet outside my door felt like they were walking around me, running into my room and out of it, emerging from the darkness, dissolving into it. A woman's voice echoed for a long time in my ears.
I checked the time in my wrist watch again. More than half the night had been crossed. My sleep seemed to have lost its way in the dark tonight. My body was exhausted; I lay absolutely still.
"Thwack!" A sharp sound of bamboo hitting bamboo. I sat up with a start and looked out, the sound still resonating in my body. A boy had opened the door of his house and stepped out. I looked closely. His eyes were shut. He stumbled about, his feet feeling their way on the grass, as if independent of his mind. He squatted on the ground to urinate. I could make out from the way he was squatting that he was asleep. He got up with a jerk and stumbled back towards his room. Then he shut the bamboo mat door of his house, just like his eyes were shut all the while.
03 November 2007
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