Seeing BLACK, Feeling BLUE…

The black ominous crow was the first thing which caught her eye that morning. ‘Crap! Of all things on earth, why did I have to have this bird’s eye view early in the morning?’ ‘Quite obvious, since the damned thing was singing the latest hip-hop number from your music collection,’ pop came the undesirable reply from the other girl. ‘First the caw-caw of the crow and then your rap starts. Well, I can imagine how fantastic a day I am going to have today,’ uttered Aliza, letting the words transform into waves with her mouth wide open, yawning (her mouth opened to such an extent that even an average-sized orange could be well fitted into the cavity, let alone occasional poor flies and mosquitoes which often go for adventurous trips down her gut and can never pay for the return journeys.                 

PS-this is not an exaggeration).

Indian roads, Indian market, or the worst-Indian garbage dumps…each of these places (if not all, at least one of these) harbor an omnipotent sign-our great jet-black crow! Not a great deal, it’s a common sight, easily overlooked. Crow, or no crow..she wasn’t one to bother her head about things like that  but the early morning blaring did give her a headache. The blackberry, her latest gizmo was shining against the backdrop of the black wallpaper which adorned a part of her wall. The sun was at its best and she felt as if she was only inches away from a bonfire, her body draped in a cloak of sweat. A dissatisfied look framed her otherwise ‘not-a-head-turner’ face which suggested that she had been woken up from an unfinished sweet dream. She took a quick shower and wore the white kurta complete with the white dupatta and white loose pajama. She looked as if she was fresh out of a LG washing machine, absolutely clean from the core, the mild deodorant adding to the aroma of purity .Sensing the shortage of time, she planned to grab a quick breakfast in the nearest ‘chai ki dukaan’ where students like her thronged day in and day out. No, calling it just a ‘chai ki dukkan’ would be like defaming it, considering the quantity and quality of customers’ palates it manages to satisfy. ‘A cup of red tea and an omlette, please,’ she shouted to the man who was busy cleaning the next table. With his head, a perfect sphere, flashing a unique sheen, he possessed a rare style statement. The thick vegetation of immense curly hair growing down his cheeks concealed a major portion of his face.  Though Aliza shouted to the man blessed with hairy proliferation, she hoped he did not bring her breakfast to her table. An overtly cleanliness conscious soul, she retched even at the thought of something dirty. In a jiffy, her poached omlette and the steaming cup of tea stood in front of her, thanks to the ‘puwali’ oozing great enthusiasm to serve the customers and the ‘devil-looking’ manager who kept a 24*7 vigil on him. The omlette seemed perfect, the spoon cutting one of the golden edges to enter into the mouth. But, what? ‘What’s this? Can’t you people maintain a little hygiene?’ shrilled her feminine voice against the pleasantness of normal soft talks of the others. The jet-black curly hair shone extraordinarily amidst the slimy white of the egg. ’Yuck!’ She wondered who the source of the ‘hair-garnishing- over-poached-egg’ was and dared to include the hairy sloth in the top-most slot of her list of suspects. Her imaginative neurons forced her to bring into her mind teeming millions of bacteria thriving in his beard and hence in the hair in the egg. No use contemplating or fussing about it, she pushed herself up, chewed a gum(or else, she would throw out just there) and hastened to her institute. Had she not been late, she would have blessed the bald-headed bulb with a zillion curses with her absurdly fast tongue and to add to it all, she was not in a very good mood altogether.

‘White skin-u girl-u girl-u, girl-u heart-u black-u,’ sounded the raucous voice of some pesky ‘nothing-to-to’ boy whiling away his time by the road sitting cozily on his Pulsar.  Eve teasing, a dirty habit plaguing every nook and cranny is like a handful of diseases which can never be eradicated, no matter how hard health workers try. Aliza felt like giving him a ‘black-out’. Her logic failed to reason out why the Kolaveri song gained such popularity among the masses.

Getting into a city bus, she seated herself on one of the dark damp seats next to a burqa-clad woman. Aliza could only guess how beautiful the lady might be when she caught a slight glance of her face while she lifted her veil to get down the foot-board of the bus. In contrast to the angelic beauty, stood the stinking handyman who squeezed his way through the non-existent space in the rickety bus. Loading the already saturated bus seems to be a simple feat for him. Then there are a few who just get into the bus to exercise their finger tricks-better called ‘pick-pocketing’. Once your purse disappears, you can’t help but plead a compassionate looking co-passenger to pay the bus fare for you and get your ATM card blocked(if at all your purse housed your ATM card or debit card or whatever). Forget chasing a suspicious target-that would be an absolute waste of time.

So after finally getting stepped on her feet by many-a standing people in the bus, Aliza managed to land safely on the ground(Reaching your destination safely with all your valuables and belongings intact after a ride in a over-crowded city bus can be considered very lucky). During her college break, she thought it better to mute her growling stomach by treating herself to something edible in the canteen. This time, however, the place was clean and the food met her expectations. Putting her hand into her bag, she searched for her purse. Since I mentioned ‘purse’, the next thing that may come to your mind is that it might be missing. Yes. The purse was nowhere to be found. Another gloomy event to multiply to her woes! Next thing that she did instinctively was-search for her blackberry. She couldn’t lose that one too. It’s only been two days since she became its owner. Drown in a sea of despair, she sat silent (no, she didn’t cry. She was not the crying sort of person) as if she just received a 220 volt shock, sans the lethal burns. She could forget the purse (which had only one or two hundred) but her blackberry would haunt her in her nightmares to come.

‘Oye..where did you leave this behind? Can’t be a tad careful after the last cell you lost, huh?’ One of her classmates held out her cell. Another bolt from the blue in quick succession!She snatched away the cell from his hand and took it out from its cover. ‘Where did you get…’her voice trailed off as she saw a black curly hair attached to the screen of her cell. ‘Yuck’ Pressing a key she saw the image of the bald headed yet hairy fellow, his 32 black gems spread out in a wicked smile (that would put toothpaste companies to shame). ‘That bald waiter in the chai dukaan said that you left it there on the table itself this morning. God, he described you well-wearing thick-rimmed specs, white shiny kurta, plaited dark hair..haha..When I reached there, he came to me and asked me if I could return it back to you. So your secret admirer returns your blackberry to you when he could have kept it for himself or sold it off.’

A bit relieved on getting back her cell, she let out a small laugh. The baldy wasn’t that dirty at heart though, she thought. But one thing she couldn’t understand-why did he click his own photograph by her cell. He appeared like a goon let loose, only to be captured on the police station’s ‘wanted’ posters. The day started with black but ended on a brighter note. Omens, dirt, squalor, unhygienic food outlets, eve teasing, pick pocketing and a concoction of other bleak events but the ‘baldy’ did serve as an effective antidote to the blues.