I have chanced upon a quaint door across the road from my class courted by the morning's mellow sunlight, adorned by a red letterbox in possession of a rustic charm from an era gone by and a blossoming Bougainvillea connoting the advent of spring. It is one of the more heart-warming & subtly vibrant sights in an otherwise bleak vicinity marked by the rustling of dry leaves and the occasional clatter of utensils of the vendors opening for the day.
As I start towards the end of the lane I begin to notice spots of colour scattered over the black & white neighbourhood. Blue, yellow and green windows, that are nestled between the freshly whitewashed walls of shops, creak as drowsy faces peep from within, hoping to catch a glimpse of each of the thousand aspiring faces that walk by their windows every day.
From a lower perspective, the students look up at the guileless residents of the area, past the faces that are either occupying the window frames or are being reflected on the glass, they can see the families inside dimly lit rooms beginning to stir. Suddenly, the tranquil street echoes of the boisterous laughter of a child coupled with someone's deep belly laugh. The dogs trotting the path join the short-lived merrymaking by howling amongst themselves. The students giggle at the unusual but amusing incident with a feeling of respite from their monotonous routine. An aromatic masala chai being prepared at a nearby tea stall or tapri tingles their senses. Their soul dances to the crackling of the oil in the frying pot used to fry bread pakoras. A few of them catch the song "Zindagi Ek Safar Hai Suhana", unaware that it had been passed on to them by the security official at the metro station who was humming to the tune of the song. From the rhythm of a baker's dough-slapping to the clinking of glasses upon their arrangement in a pyramid by the tea stall owner, they found music in the most unlikely places. By the time the group covered the length of the street, the homes and the shops went by were alive with the fascination of a new day, made vivacious by its occupants; unimpaired by the colour of the walls that lined the path.
The time has come to make a decisive stand. The old order of divisive and vote-bank politics is inching closer to a violent death. Either an authoritarian country will emerge out of it, or we can take control of our nation and start afresh. Lines have been drawn. We need to muddy them for good and begin with a clear and truth-seeking agenda. The mass (not to be equated with majority) always has the power to change the course of history as does every single individual. Let us unite once again.
