How do I get back to that one page I wrote on my journey of sorts, by train early this month; how do I upload this video on Facebook (taking donkeys years now!) and ‘I-can-sense-an-itch-to-write/been –long’ kind of thoughts. Rummaging through my mind…preventing me from taking an afternoon nap. (yes!)
Head’s throbbing for I intentionally forsook my medicine for the day…these above, need some sorting first. Everything else, can wait.
Sorting my thoughts, not in the above order, though.
#1: The video
Early today morning, I heard the familiar ‘damru-dugdugi’: a small two-headed drum, one sees Shiva, the Destroyer hold in His Hands (my favourite of the lot!).
Yes, ‘twas the man with two monkeys…atop his cycle. Vying for attention of children…in all the houses lining the road, he keeps walking.
Then the inevitable happens.
They begin to run out of houses. Screaming. Yelling in excitement. Their parents exchanging glances that say ‘fetch-those-pennies-out and stand-here-with him/her-while-the-show-lasts!’.
Children. They are such bundles of energy.
Three from my neighbourhood called the ‘show’ open. They stood in extreme anticipation, while the ‘madari’-monkey tamer, put his paraphernalia on show.
The two monkeys, waited for him, patiently. The children’s excitement mounted…and the money dance began.
I have watched this as a kid…many a times. Sitting atop my Father’s shoulders…best and safe, as my little heart always felt sure the monkey would not reach me there. And all that while, he would answer my endless questions.
Today, I see it from my balcony, with a camera in my hand.
And I see a different script. A testimony to the changing times.
The parents go back to their houses once the show starts. The maids, helpers, take their places. The script that the monkeys dance to, has undergone a sea change- they have begun to show traces of domestic (though light-hearted and with pun) violence. It is fun, as it used to be…the regular dance, ‘tamasha’, and songs. Claps follow. Children chatter. The show ends.
I ape the media in a way…or the average passer-by to any such drama. I have a camera, and I shoot. From a distance, I choose to watch what happens…as it happens…and I storify it now.
Perhaps, we as human beings are taught to ‘watch’ in silence. Perchance, that parent who has asked a helper to switch his/her place, needs to be there, to explain. To assail fears that the children experience…to answer questions, that barrage their minds.
The children are watching…and they are learning. Picking it all up. Their psyches are working big time, engraving these implicit messages.
And then there are monkeys...
And then there are monkeys...
P.S.: The video has taken all its while to upload. I will share the URL once it is up. Until then, tell me what you think
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