Washing dishes
When was the last time you did the dishes? Go ahead, give it some serious thought. Take this post as a reminder to share the load and appreciate the little things in life.
Roohi was on cloud nine, starting next week, her life was gonna pick up speed full throttle. Having aced her auditions with the Akshar theatre group, she was going to leave her walled city and go out to live her dream in the city of dreams.
Trying her best to capture all of her city in her last week in Delhi, she decided to pay a visit to all of her favorite spots in town. The philosophy of visiting old places to make new memories had hit her like a stone after reading a quote on her instagram feed. She wanted to breathe in and soak up all the delhiness of the city before leaving for good to chase her dream. A fear of losing herself to the gloss of her new town made her want to do what she had done as a fresher in college; go on a city tour.
Enjoying a quite lunch at one of the oldest restaurants at CP she had her fill of what she considered the best sizzler platter in town. Finishing up her meal, she glanced around the busy restaurant. There were people meeting for business dinners, couples out on a date to enjoy a meal in peace and groups of youngsters like herself out for a good time having a gala time giggling away through the evening. Each table had a different story, while her's was of solitude. She had decided to take herself out on a dinner after which she had planned to walk her way to Gurdwara Bangla Saheb before heading home. Absorbing the lively atmosphere around her, Roohi felt happy and free.
Clearing her cheque, she walked towards the exit, where the rotund doorman greeted her with an obligatory - Thank you madam please visit again with a plastered smile. Moved by her unusually high spirits, Roohi decided to greet the man back with her beeming smile and said a louder thank you waving him goodbye. This gesture of hers caught him slightly off guard for a guardsman. Walking slowly through the many corridors of the market space designed in the British Era, Roohi crossed halkers and vendors squatting at every inch, nook and corner trying to sell their goods and make a living. Lately the concept of busking had gained momentum in the city and she crossed an amazing street performer doing a fusion ballad, an impressive cross between Indian mythology and ballet it seemed.
Walking a few paces ahead, Roohi saw two women, clad in sarees in a traditional Gujrati drape style, sitting cross legged, with a small spread of rings to sell. One of them was younger seemingly in her mid twenties while the elder one was old enough to be her mother or mother -in-law. It was hard to assess the case, but they did share a close bond which made Roohi stop for a second and look at them. Sensing her gaze, the younger of the two ladies called onto her,
"Dekh lo na madam, pasand aegi aapko." she gestured towards the sparkly spread of rings lined up on a black velvet case in front of her on a small piece of cloth serving as their makeshift stall space on this vastly commercial street of the city.
Roohi decided to entertain her request, glittery items catch the female eye faster than food, they say.
"Achha ye wala kaisa diya?" Roohi asked picking up a delicate ring shaped like a bird.
"Madam koi sa bhi lelo, dedh sau lagaungi. Shine pakka hai kabhi ni jaega. Mera dekho ab tak chamkta hai anguthi". The woman tried to assure her, twirling her ring around.
"Arey didi, bartan dhone baithungi to kahaan shine tikega" Roohi joked matter of factly. She had lived alone and she was going to live alone. Dishwashers are not a common item in Indian households.
"Kya baat kar rahi madam" Exclaimed the seller lady, the elder one of the two, . "Arey hum to sochtey the bas hum hi bartan dhotey hain." she laughed a genuine laugh of amazement. Pointing at her traditional garb she explained to Roohi in her minimal words, her struggle of leaving home in search of better opportunities. How the search had lead her to the busy streets of Delhi, making a living, selling imitation jewelry.
"Kyun aunty, khana to hum bhi khaate hain, jaise aap waise hum. Khana bnaatey bhi hain, aur khaatey bhi hain. Phir bartan bhi to dhona padega na". Roohi was on her knees, trying out the ring as she spoke to the elderly woman. Roohi spoke to her in omitted details of how many Delhites move to different towns too, and how we are all rats of the same race, albeit in different lanes.
"Chalo ye final kartey hai. Didi paise kaat lo" Paying off, Roohi took the packaged ring from the young woman, as she rose to her feet the elderly lady smirked. "Aur bartan dhone k time ring side rakh dena, aise andhere mei teer nahi chalaana. Phir shine rahega" The trio laughed, in a busy street on an unclaimed spot, these three women found their common ground of connect and the simplicity of life.
Who knew washing dishes, such a dreaded task around the house for most of us would become a coveted topic of commonality for Roohi to connect with these two amazing women of grit and bring about a shared sense of admiration in them mutually.
♥️
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