Wednesday 2 December 2020

The way to the village

 


In the share auto in Damalcheruvu.
Possibly a wait of half an hour. Or more. Till it fills up to fourteen it won't start.
Three with the driver. Four on the seat behind, whete we have claimed our space. Four on the narrow slab fitted facing us. Four in the luggage space behind. Extras hang on the doorways.
Waiting teaches many life lessons. Patience. Faith. Hope. Adjustment.
And more ... as one is given the time to watch.
A man came to the auto and said he's hungry. Each person in the auto gave. 2/-, 1/-, 5/-..
In India, in the real India. Giving is a way of being. Daanam is Dharmam. A rule that applies to all. Irrespective.
The most essential lessons are learnt only in watching lfe as it flows ...
A village allows that ...





Which MLA, MP has ever sat in these seats ? On this Chittoor - Piler bus.
I see this in every single bus in AP !







The way home.
The Chittoor bus.
The ancient hills of the Eastern Ghats. The massive tamarind trees lining the roads. The palm trees.Old friends.
The way home is never long. Even if if means changing buses at Chittoor and Damalcheruvu. Long waits. A share auto after that to Kothapeta which packs in 12-16:people most casually. And the last lap of the quiet 4 km to the village through mango and groundnut patches ..
Eashwaramma awaits us with lunch. Sangati and a chutney.


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Shared with Public
Public
The bus from Chittoor to Kothapeta. Fifteen minutes out of the bus stop, the bus halted. The driver called the conductor, "I left the cover on the bench we were sitting on. Go, bring it."
With characteristic accomodativeness the rural passengers settled for the delay. I pulled out the dabba of lemon rice, and my daughter, Nagesh and I had our delayed lunch.
One curious passenger, "What was in the cover ?"
Driver, "SI s cap. I normally don't take things to deliver. But this was SI." (SI- Sub Inspector)
A conversation continue on these lines, straddling many associated topics, including more and more people.
In half an hour the conductor trudged back with a cap in a blue plastic cover. A khaki police cap. Each one of us felt a personal sense of accomplishment.
The bus restarted.






Veena Seetharaman
I generally don't comment on anything u write...basically some of them are I never understand...but in this I have to comment...u r lucky that u r around such real people..I m stuck in the city clan..and I feel I m nowhere In this crowd.. Where as a comeback is impossible because our bread...

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