Last Sunday

Last Sunday, I woke up by the continuous ringing of the doorbell. I cursed the person at the door as I scuttled to find my T-shirt. I was within my rights to curse the person at the door anyways: after all that was Sunday morning, the only morning when I can catch up with my dreams. As I opened the door, I could barely keep my eyes open. I was expecting Rai ji, the caretaker of the building I live in, at the door since he has this nagging habit of pressing on the doorbell continuously but instead found out two Muslim youths there. How do I know of their identity? Simple: They were wearing their traditional headgear and the area I live in is dominated by the Muslim community. It is not hard to make that connection anyways. They had come to collect a donation for the orphanage they run. I asked them to wait and brought them some money. While preparing a receipt for the donation, they enquired about my name. When I told them so, I registered some surprise in their eyes before they moved on to normal conduct. As I was closing the door, I heard a sentence: “He actually gave the donation.” And this brought me to face the reality again: No matter how normal we try to act, there still remains a gap in our society which needs to be filled.

There is no need to emphasize on the fact that I could not sleep after that. It is a shame since it was only 9:30 am. However, there was much to do. I subscribe to 3 newspapers on Sunday mornings as it is the only day when I can read newspapers at my leisure. So, once I had grasped all the news and views from around the globe, I was ready for a hair-cut. Now, I am not a hunk and also do not boast of a lot of hairs on my head yet I have realized that long hairs make the matter worse for me. So, on a day when the holy month of Ramzan started and India celebrated Ganesh Chaturthi, I went for a hair-cut. Like most of the Salons in the cities, this too had a television which was tuned to a movie channel broadcasting ‘Bal Ganesha’. While half-way through my hair-cut I heard the familiar ‘Ganpati Bappa Morya, Mangal Murti Morya’ chant. A Muslim hair dresser was chanting this as the movie depicted some miracle of Lord Ganesha. How do I know of his identity? This time it is even simpler than last time: his name. It is always pleasant to know that despite many attempts of fundamentalists and radical elements in our society, the beautiful fabric which defines India and its idea of co-existence is still intact. However, there was more in store. I soon found that the man running the Salon is a Hindu and he asked a Muslim hair dresser to take a break and come only in the evening as that guy was observing Roja and hence would need some rest. This is the kind of understanding we need to take this country forward. When we start respecting the identity of our own people and start trusting each other, then there will be no need of worrying about the actions of some fanatics- they will die their own slow death.

P.S: Off late, I am getting less time to visit blog space as I am tied up with other things. Thus, neither I am regular with my posts nor I am timely replying to comments. The fact is that sometimes I am not able to comment on blogs which I visit. I think there is a need to feel sorry for all these. I am trying my best to manage both the worlds: the real and the blog. I hope I would be able to devote more time to the blog world in the near future.