VARUN
After watching the Da Vinci code at spice, ma, papa n I got delicious dinner packed for an evening of kebabs n beer. Didi was waiting for us at home. All of us were arguing about what music to listen to. Papa and I wanted Abida and mum absolutely insisted on Kenny g., and the only consensus was on how sucky fm is.
Then we stopped at a red light and an old beggar, with no clothes on his back, and a tattered dhoti around his waist knocked on our car window. He was bent, one could not say whether from age or poverty. Of course this sight made us feel completely guilty for leading the life that we do, and call it pity if u may, papa gave him a five-rupees coin. Just then a guy on a scooter came n hit the beggar on his arm. (I cant keep calling him the beggar, and I don’t know anything more about him, so I shall give him a name, Varun.). Varun staggered a little, and then started walking, but the obscene man on the scooter grabbed him by his spindly arm and slapped him across his face. Varun still didn’t react, he took it as if it’s his lot to be slapped around, n started walking away, without the least retaliation, and it was as if he hadn’t even registered what had just happened. And then the man (who I have no qualms in calling the obnoxious scooter guy) hit him again. Shocked I rolled down my window and yelled at him- “ kyun maar rahe ho use, who toh bechara garib hai, aur galti toh tumhari this.” Immediately papa rolled down his window and shouted at the obnoxious guy to let go of Varun. Mum said- “dekho uske paise bhi gir gaye”.
Three of us were screaming at obnoxious, and Varun just walked away, as if four people fighting would not change his lot. Then obnoxious turned towards us and asked my father to stay out of this, and then asked him to park his car a little ahead so that he could teach us what a mistake it was to standup for a defenseless guy. When he saw that his lame threats weren’t bothering us, he took out his cell phone, and noted the car number.
All this while there were people all around us who saw, but never said a word. The guy on the bike behind obnoxious just signaled to papa that obnoxious was drunk so we should just let things be.
The signal turned to green and all of us drove off. Varun had moved to the other side of the road and was hobbling along as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. I felt hot tears sting my cheeks, and a huge sense of shame that crying was all I could do. I stood up for someone, but was it enough?
Here is Varun, who I know nothing about. Who probably is a junkie, sleeps on the streets, is harassed by cops, ill-treated by people, and has become completely numb. People don’t see him anymore. Maybe he doesn’t see himself either. He’s lost himself in the thousands of Varuns who like him sleep on the streets and are like dogs who children pick on for their amusement. He is as speechless as an animal, coz there is no system, no government protecting him, and if someone beats him or even runs him over, the mcd would just put the carcass away . But the fact that we don’t see him, or that he doesn’t see himself either, does that mean he doesn’t exist?
And writing this blog, does it free me from the guilt I feel at living the way I do. At being privileged. The biggest problems in my life, like guys and friends and a career pale…I feel foolish. I have no right to call him Varun. Maybe I should have gotten out of the car and asked him if he was ok, asked him if there was anything I could do apart from giving him money, given him a hug, some sign of acceptance…asked him his name. Do you think he knows what his name is?
Then we stopped at a red light and an old beggar, with no clothes on his back, and a tattered dhoti around his waist knocked on our car window. He was bent, one could not say whether from age or poverty. Of course this sight made us feel completely guilty for leading the life that we do, and call it pity if u may, papa gave him a five-rupees coin. Just then a guy on a scooter came n hit the beggar on his arm. (I cant keep calling him the beggar, and I don’t know anything more about him, so I shall give him a name, Varun.). Varun staggered a little, and then started walking, but the obscene man on the scooter grabbed him by his spindly arm and slapped him across his face. Varun still didn’t react, he took it as if it’s his lot to be slapped around, n started walking away, without the least retaliation, and it was as if he hadn’t even registered what had just happened. And then the man (who I have no qualms in calling the obnoxious scooter guy) hit him again. Shocked I rolled down my window and yelled at him- “ kyun maar rahe ho use, who toh bechara garib hai, aur galti toh tumhari this.” Immediately papa rolled down his window and shouted at the obnoxious guy to let go of Varun. Mum said- “dekho uske paise bhi gir gaye”.
Three of us were screaming at obnoxious, and Varun just walked away, as if four people fighting would not change his lot. Then obnoxious turned towards us and asked my father to stay out of this, and then asked him to park his car a little ahead so that he could teach us what a mistake it was to standup for a defenseless guy. When he saw that his lame threats weren’t bothering us, he took out his cell phone, and noted the car number.
All this while there were people all around us who saw, but never said a word. The guy on the bike behind obnoxious just signaled to papa that obnoxious was drunk so we should just let things be.
The signal turned to green and all of us drove off. Varun had moved to the other side of the road and was hobbling along as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. I felt hot tears sting my cheeks, and a huge sense of shame that crying was all I could do. I stood up for someone, but was it enough?
Here is Varun, who I know nothing about. Who probably is a junkie, sleeps on the streets, is harassed by cops, ill-treated by people, and has become completely numb. People don’t see him anymore. Maybe he doesn’t see himself either. He’s lost himself in the thousands of Varuns who like him sleep on the streets and are like dogs who children pick on for their amusement. He is as speechless as an animal, coz there is no system, no government protecting him, and if someone beats him or even runs him over, the mcd would just put the carcass away . But the fact that we don’t see him, or that he doesn’t see himself either, does that mean he doesn’t exist?
And writing this blog, does it free me from the guilt I feel at living the way I do. At being privileged. The biggest problems in my life, like guys and friends and a career pale…I feel foolish. I have no right to call him Varun. Maybe I should have gotten out of the car and asked him if he was ok, asked him if there was anything I could do apart from giving him money, given him a hug, some sign of acceptance…asked him his name. Do you think he knows what his name is?
posted by ugly duckling at 10:35 PM
2 Comments:
Fuck Man
This is something that should go as the haedline in one of these useless newspapers, which only talk about the vices of the rich and the reckless...it is painful...it is sad that even though we are leading perfectly comfortable and cushioned lives...all we can think about is "My problems" and how big they are...the concept of a socially aware citizen is alien to most of us, including me...the conceot of our debt to the society manifests itself in fruitless and often destructive forms...our sense of belonging is limited to our family, our friends and the shops and pubs we frequent...that defines our perception about the city we love so much "Delhi"...everything that falls outside this vision is not ours and we are not responsibel for it...we have everything to make this city a better place but we lack the ability to go out of our way and use it...we prioritize to relax when we can...we prioritize to spend endless hours in front of the TV and feel bad for what is going wrong in this world...we prioritize to use these topics as means of entertainment at a party...we sit and think about...we feel bad about it...we conclude that we cant do anything about it...feel worse about it..while feeling better that there are so many people who dont even do this much...we are all running after something which we might never get...wasting the most precious years and tears of our life...we want to buy "Happiness"-a packaged concept that is sold to us by the media, our friends, our family...and we dont have the balls to go out and look for it on our own...too scared of what we might find or infact will loose...confused and frustrated with our own life...absolutely incapable of helping ourselves forget about helping Varun
OMG!!
m touched gurl...this is one blog tht has completly shaken my conscience.
m not into reading or writing blogs...but since u insisted...i read som...but this...wow!!!yes wow!!
think of it man...we r lucky..actually lucky...god loves us...we hav all the comforts of life..yet we fret n fume as though we r the most tortured souls of this earth...n poor Varun...he is jus a speck of dust in the carpet called life...n wat r we???the bugs!!n i wish i bump into "obnoxious" som day..wil giv him a piece of my mind!!
keep writing gurl....n send this to b published in a mag or paper...plssssssssss!
Veens:)
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