Category: Daily Post Challenges

Those were the days of chaos, especially mornings. There was breakfast to be made, lunch to be packed, milk to be boiled, toddler to be taken care of and get myself ready for college – before the water supply bid adieu for the day.

As you can imagine, it was a mad dash from the moment I woke up (mostly late – after having slept fitfully because the little one had strong beliefs and strident opinions – nights were meant for play and not sleep).

So there I was, groggy, stumbling around the kitchen trying to brew tea and boil some milk on a rickety kerosene stove (yes – those days!), all the while trying to soothe the cranky warm bundle nestling on my shoulder when there was a knock on the kitchen door.

“Oh no!” I grumbled. Here was the dreaded interruption to my carefully choreographed routine which took me from the kitchen to the bedroom via the hallway (with intermittent pirouettes through the washroom to fill buckets).

It was the ‘trash guy’ who came everyday to collect the day’s trash for less than a rupee a day. And to make his deal more attractive – he offered to wash the trashcan as well.

Okay fine!

Except it wasn’t – 25 rupees a month to throw trash? I could do that myself and earn myself a few bucks in the process. But then I hardly had time to breathe, he needed the job, we were generating employment, keeping the food chain moving – okay fine.

So he began by adding his two bit to the morning bedlam. Unfailing in attendance, he had the uncanny habit of rapping on the door just as the pandemonium had peaked – and invariably trigger a panic attack. I was late! There goes my bus! Again!

All my frustration and irritation would come to the fore as I opened the door, keeping a tight grip on the now alert and frisky toddler – aha the door was open! The world awaits me! Let’s go out and run he would jerk, squiggle and wriggle adding strength and volume to his exhortations as only he could.

“Hurry! I don’t have time.” I would wail as my eel baby all but slithered from my grasp.

“Namaste Madamji.” He would offer cheerily while emptying the trashcan. “I need to wash this. It’s filthy.”

I would shoot a harried glance at the clock, fighting a losing battle with the now impossibly arched muscular bundle, “Maybe tomorrow. There’s someone in the washroom.”

Phew! I shut the door and get back to my dance routine with renewed frenzy.

It was the same old story –day after day. Except, his pleas to let him clean the bin grew more demanding by the day – but something or the other always took precedence – the baby was shrieking, somebody in the washroom, major water crisis, so on and so forth.

With growing guilt, I would shut the door on his disapproving accusing face.

“What the hell is his problem? He should be happy. Less work for him.” I grumbled to my husband. “And it’s not like I am not going to pay him his full dues. I know the bin needs a wash but I don’t have time for this right now.”

Finally on Sunday he caught me. Feeling expansive, I gave in. He demanded soap and turned on the tap – my heart fell to my shoes. Hold the water dammit!

Heart in mouth, I held my breath as he scrubbed the trashcan to his satisfaction. He turned to me his entire face glowing with pride, joy and triumph and a hint of censure. “Look madam, this is clean. You should let me clean it everyday.”

From illiterate garbage guy, I learnt some of the most important lessons of my life  – to take pride and joy in my work no matter how small or inconsequential it may be in the larger scheme of things. And to make sure I earned my salary.

***

Written for the Daily Post’s prompt Filthy

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Hello folks! For a few days now I have been feeling restless and itching to try my hand at something different. And almost providentially up came the Daily Post’s weekly challenge Song. To be specific the challenge is “Tell us a story about a piece of music that stayed with you.”

Exactly what I wanted to have an in-depth discussion about – vent so to speak. But bear with me while I lay the background.

I live in relative seclusion, just meters away from a bustling arterial road. Much of the extraneous sounds are masked by the whir of the fan or the hum of the air conditioner. But now that summer has left us (phew never thought I would live to see another winter :D) the fans and ACs have fallen silent, the sounds from around the campus is louder, clearer and distinct.

Here comes the crux of the matter.

In the morning, around 7.30 a.m, someone puts on his (am pretty sure it’s a guy) music system to play one song.

The same song.

Each and every day.

A nice song I have to admit. Rafi sahab’s voice is melodious enough to melt the hardiest of hearts and the song is soft and romantic.

But for God’s sake who has a record with only one song? Where are the other songs? Bring them on! Perhaps it will help to get rid of this ear worm. If only I knew where he lived – I would have happily presented him with one of Rafi’s golden albums (and gotten to the bottom of the mystery).

The regularity and discipline with which this song is played is impressive. The mystery of it is driving us around the bend. Husband and wife have had endless debates and discussions on Why this song? Why only this song? What is the significance of this song?

We have come up several hypotheses:

He is trying to woo a girl. After all it is a romantic number and the lyrics go something like this:

My love is great (for want of a better word)

With her spring arrives

And when she leaves, spring too leaves

My love is great

My sweetheart is my life

And so on and so forth it goes – you get the gist right? Or this could be his way of publicly declaring his love without raising the hackles of his (and her) parents and other guardians of the society. This particular couplet from the song gives support to this hypothesis:

I cannot call out her name in front of everyone

Embarrassed, she is likely to be annoyed with me and

then where will I be?

Other hypothesis have been floated but they are neither tenable nor suitable for general broadcast.

By the way, my dear friends, even as I write, the mystery deepens. Yesterday morning, we missed the song – did he not play it or did we not register it? Was the guy okay? Had something happened to him? Had they broken up?

We (I) couldn’t help worrying. A diehard romantic, I said, poor chap is probably unwell.

Or – there was a distinct gleam in his eye – his music system has been smashed to smithereens.

Our fears were allayed (and hopes dashed) when he played the song in the evening.

Now we are just wondering (and hoping against hope) that he hasn’t decided to up the ante and switched from OD to BD dosage schedule.

So folks, without any further ado this is the piece of music that is with us these days – it’s only fair and neighborly to share ear worms 😀

Thanks for visiting – comments, takes and hypotheses, all are welcome!

For old timers and readers of SS please check out the following two posts - From DM's Desk and Another Diwali Party. Please dont forget to leave me a note.