Ullu

अँधेरे की गुमनामी में
शोर का ढिंढोरा पीटते
हुए
 एक नहीं दो नहीं
चार उल्लू
चहारदीवारी
पर बैठ कर
बोलते
हैं.

आती जाती
सुंदरियों पर फब्ती
कशते हैं ?
या कंपकंपाती
ठंड को ताना
मारते हैं ?
घर से दूर
उड़ गए
उल्लू भाईयों
को याद कर
रोते हैं ?
या अपनी
कोलाहल
से छिड़ी व्हाट्सप्प
पर बहस
को हँसते हैं


चार उल्लू
शाम की गोष्ठी
में रोज़ाना
गप  मारते
हैं

और
हु हु  कर
ठहाके
भरते हैं

The neighbourhood

The neighbourhood was ummm, okay-ish . I express doubt , why? Because , my next door neighbour , touted as a celebrity ,was never home .

He was a singer , and earned piles of dubious cash . Paid all his instalments  in cash . The flat was fitted in with cane, wooden and wrought iron furniture .Floral wallpaper . He came and left , once every few months . In a whirlwind of high end cars and the smell of expensive perfume.

A girl with streaked hair , false eyelashes and a faked high pitched laugh ,accompanied him, occasionally , to the place with a bunch of short and ill fed cronies. A word hissed around . Mistress .

There were few midnight parties and few cake cutting birthdays.  A very public display of affection . Hugs and kisses before she left in her Honda civic and he in his Jaguar . It was scandalous in this prim and proper middle class society.

Once he send one of his "guys" to wash the house . He obeyed him literally and hosed the house down with soapy water . Put out all the cane furniture , buckets , brooms , doormats . Someone from the building complained when soap suds started dripping down from the roof of the lift , sparking fears of short circuit . The estate manager came and fired him . The chap left in a huff. His cane chairs are cosy for stray cats and the rest are drenching in the rain and  bleaching in the sun . For the last six months .

On the upside , I got to place my potted palms in the common area , with no one to object or trip over . The top floor balcony is one seamless mass of pooled gold in the mornings . I can see my kid boarding her bus from the neighbours’ turf and she can memorise battle dates and algorithms while sitting in the solitude of his balcony , accompanied only, very occasionally , by an irate cat.

The Owl couple come visiting

Last night , I was awakened on hearing  two owls talk .

It was a proper conversation with varying intonations for questions and answer , and sounded like a proper tete-a-tete. They took turns to make their points , to each other .

Then the conversation shifted to the window . the loud warbling and cooing , in turns , sounded too close for comfort.

The I lifted the curtain corner and at that witching hour , a strangest sight met my eyes . The two owls , their bodies facing outwards , were staring at me , with four, large , unblinking eyes .

Their heads had rotated 360 degrees .

Then they got tired of staring at me and flew off. First one , then the other , winging into the dark night .

It was a surreal and  eerie . Not easily forgotten .


                       &&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Today morning I looked up in Salim Ali's book of Indian birds and discovered that they are called Spotted owlets.

Fancy Dress

   It has been decided that the cute, tiny, three year old will be dressed as a tortoise. A basket , cane basket , is procured with much difficulty in todays , modern plastic world, covered in sheets of chart paper , cellotaped  together .

Finally , painting the brown hexagons on the chart paper and drawing concentric hexagons inside each one . Fix a string to the side and tie it to the tummy of a small sleepy baby dressed in brown with a brown monkey cap .

When it was time to appear on the stage , the mother suddenly realised that she had forgotten to make the baby practice how to crawl .

The baby walks confidently onstage and begins "My name is H, I study in LkG and I have dressed up as a tortoise . " The camera wielding Mom is frantically gesturing the baby to crawl .

The baby reacts "Kya mamma ? Main kya bolun ."

The crowd erupts into laughter at this sweet display of innocence .


                                          &&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Another fancy dress, another year , another baby .

She is tiny , grumpy , but agrees to wear a khadi kurta, and white tights. Chart paper comes to rescue again . A white gandhi topi , rose , plucked hastily from someone elses garden , and pinned on the chest . The three year old , like her sister , has just one dialogue -" I am chacha Nehru , and I love kids ." Shouldn't be difficult .

After dressing up the kid , it is time for the Mom to dress up , and for the life of her , she cant find a matching salwaar or dupatta.

Leaving a ransacked house in a mismatched dress , she lands up at the bakery to collect a plum cake as it is "Nehru's " birthday too . Meaning children's day , 14 th November .

At the tiny playschool , there is this upset sardar boy , whose Mom has dressed him up in a lehenga , he has cried and rubbed kajal all over his pretty face , thereby ruining his mascara and lipstick . A "Pirate ", has decided to fight all the trees lying in his path , and his cardboard sword has become limp , broken , the silver paper shredded . Another sleepy "superman " slouches in the corner .

Nehru is the only one with flawless speech delivery , and hearts swell . The sweet playschool teacher gives the plastic knife to Nehru for cake cutting and it doesn't cut .

The "Superman " alerts greedy fingers that cake "garam hai " (it is not ) , and the "Pirate " offers his cardboard sword ( hopelessly inadequate for cake cutting ), which "Nehru " snatches and whacks pirate right back with .

Minor scuffle and pandemonium later , a proper adult knife is procured , and all are seated peacefully , in various corners , relishing their cake . It is indeed , a success, after all .

tempest

fierce tempest
Threshes the forest
thrashes the tree crest

Giant trees falling
slow motion
rolling , snow balling
come crashing

Winds rejoice
some more
howling
doubling

with dubious laughter
cackling of witches
throwing open latches
rain lashes

sway
this way
and that
in swaths