Ties That Bind

Rakhi is one Indian festival that is widely celebrated but rarely written about. But festivals are all about human bonds and gestures. They become all the more special when the gesture comes from an unexpected corner, that is outside the family or neighbourhood.

This is the story of Sonia whose religion, caste or region is unknown. She lived in a slum along the famous Kalka–Shimla railway track on the outskirts of Solan.

Sonia used to sell trinkets on a pavement outside a building where my friend’s widow ran a printing shop, and two other friends ran a small general insurance office.

My interaction with Sonia was generally limited to exchanging daily greetings as I used to park my two wheeler next to her stall. She always greeted everyone with a smile and asked the well being of the families of those known to her.

Slowly Sonia had started making rare appearances at the insurance office where I used to go daily for lunch. My three friends and I brought packed food from our houses and ate lunch together.

We shared food, including those items that generally do not appeal to the taste buds and are difficult to eat when alone. Anyway food from someone else's kitchen is always tastier.

On rare occasions Sonia would turn up and ask for small favours. At times she borrowed a small amount of money from one of us for an emergency, and made it a point to return it on her next appearance for work. This spoke a lot about her ethics and self respect.

Sonia had talked about her extended family residing in one of the slums on the periphery of Chandigarh. One could understand that the cities do not have space for the poor.

They have to always live in subhuman conditions on the margins. They serve the middle classes and the rich, for a paltry remuneration. no one takes into account the time and energy spent by them in their daily travel to the city for work.

The treatment meted out to them is sub human. One gets to regularly see stories on the alternative media about domestic helpers being asked not to use the elevators in housing societies and take the separate small service elevators marked for them. All this speaks of inequality and marginalisation.

Sonia was no different in terms of the way she was being treated by people. Then there was always the fear of municipal authorities confiscating the material that she wanted to sell although she did not acquire any part of the main road.

Here too it needs to be pointed out that most of the times anti encroachment drives are only for the poor. They do not get enforced on the big shop owners who also display their wares on the pavements with impunity.

Quite often Sonia was also the target of the owner of the building outside which she sat. He would not hide his detest of this girl accusing her of ‘illegally’ doing business just outside his building.

This was an irony of sorts as burdened by his ever increasing debt he too would often try to sell apparel at the same spot. It was a poetic justice of sorts that he was declared a defaulter by a bank and the building and the property eventually changed hands.

It was on one of the occasions when Sonia was being chided by the building owners that one of the friends had asked him not to harass her. Thereafter, she started expressing gratitude whenever she made one of those rare appearances at the insurance office.

On one of the occasions Sonia reluctantly accepted the offer of a cup of tea. But I could make out that her taste buds did not approve of the green tea at all.

She took a sip or two and then quietly put the paper cup into the dustbin lying outside the office. It made me recall that green tea is again not a commodity consumed by the masses, but we did not make regular tea as milk was not available.

It was the day before Rakhi last year that Sonia arrived as the three of us sat having our daily lunch. One of us asked her whether she would have food with us or if she wanted anything else.

Thanking us for the offer of food, she said, “I am going home to Chandigarh today. I have brought Rakhi for the three of you. Please tie it as I won’t be around tomorrow.”

She kept a small packet on a table nearby. Touched by her gesture we dug into our pockets and gave her whatever little money we were carrying. She had to be persuaded hard to accept the little amount as she kept refusing.

The next day we opened the packet that lay untouched since she had left. It contained three Rakhi threads, a small packet of sweets and a small envelope containing money. Things that must have all been a part of the ritual in her family.

We decided to give her a nice gift on Diwali to reciprocate her kind gesture. But she was not to be seen again in the town after a few days.

Maybe the shanty where she lived was razed to the in one of those civic body drives. Maybe the family had moved someplace else, finding a vocation that paid better remuneration.

The building outside which she used to sit earning her livelihood had changed hands. The friend’s wife had also shut her printing unit down. The insurance office moved elsewhere.

After all, change is the only constant in life. But Sonia’s gesture remains etched in the mind and it will be remembered on every festival of Rakhi.

Around two and a half decades ago when ‘Page 3 journalism’ had started its ascent in mainstream media, the old school journalists were shocked at stories about how the rich and famous celebrated festivals.

The stories were all about promoting consumerism, designer clothes and articles besides confectionery from big brands. The observation at that time was that the Page 3 wanted to prove that festivals are meant only for the upwardly mobile.

Now, in the rat race of consumerism it is the spirit of festive occasions that has taken a hit. Yet it is small gestures and bonds established through them which spell that festivals being all about pure humane relations.