The Handbag

Her marriage is on 16th Dec. Her marriage invitation card along with a letter reminded me the day, which was her second day in the office.

To me, it was a normal working day, as I reached the door of first floor and I was about to enter. On the right side, I saw the new girl stepping down the stairs from the cafeteria. But to me it seemed that her steps were extra cautious.

My sub-conscience was not wrong. Just before, she was about to touch the floor from the stairs, she got unbalanced and was about to fall miserable. Without thinking anything, I moved forward and hold her hand. Before I can extend my left hand, she balanced herself . Before she could understand what happened, she promptly said… “Oh Sorry”.

I observed , her eyelid seemed wet. She might have cried few minutes before in cafeteria, I guessed.

While falling , she managed her dupatta but could not balance her handbag. The handbag kept rolling on the stairs towards ground floor. I guessed she did not fastened the zip of the handbag. The things in handbag scattered !

I offered her help. We gathered many used mobile recharge coupons (which she seemed never throw), a lipstick, a small diary, one small black polythene, petals of a dry rose which had turned out black, and a half torn letter, and some piece of paper torn in smallest pieces. There were broken bangle pieces ( Not sure, were they broken before ) and a little soft-toy attached key-chain.

At the time there were no one on the stairs to make her more embarrassed , but she was embarrassed. She must had got sprains on the ankle. Afterwards, neither I nor she said this falling episode to our colleagues ever.

She stayed with us for 7 months. The days she spent with our teams were really good. She changed the organization for better prospects. The industry is habituated to see such departures , but to two of her friends, it meant missing her contribution in the team.

I never knew much about her, unless few days before, she sent me a friend request in Orkut. I clicked to her personal profile. I was surprised to see her details. She had written: from the past relationship I learnt — “NEVER EVER trust Anybody”. I was a bit surprised to know this thing about her, but the sentence did elaborate the things she kept in her handbag.

I accepted her friend request and wrote a mail for her auspicious future.

She replied me back.

Aakash,
……….
Today I dont have words to reply your line
“I do wish, Bhanumati ka Pitara ( the handbag) will contain fresh roses now onwards”
…..
Apply for leave early and try to come along with Rakesh.
……
……
Regards,
C. Puja

Sipping a glass of juice

Today early afternoon, after lunch I walked to the juice shop. She, the beggar, was standing near to me asking for money.

Her age may be around 70 or more. Dirty linen and weird grey hairs, black skinny hands and dirty nails and a big round grey bag hanging behind her.

I tried to pay no attention to her as they do keep roaming in the busy market. She again asked for bheekh, and the shopkeeper in Kannada said something to her. The only word I could I understood was juice. I thought the shopkeeper is telling her to stay away from the juice shop. But she did not moved away but she was not looking towards me for coins.

Few coins do not matter for me as much that may matter for her. But still not to encourage the number of more beggars, I did not gave her.

I had ordered for a glass of mausambi juice.To pass off the time, I was looking at the juice making process inside the shop trying to avoid ( in fact I can’t ever ) her . I was the only customer at the shop at that time. Normally for one glass of juice, two mausambi are used. I saw him the juice-maker putting four mausambi’s in the juicer.

Juice was prepared within a minute – not one glass but two glasses ! One glass for me and other for the beggar lady. I picked up the glass and looked towards her. The beggar lady was counting coins in her dirty thin palms. Keeping many coins in her left hand, she was counting the coins in her right hand. I thought, she is ounting the coins to pay for her glass of juice. Coins of Rs. 1, Rs. 2 and Rs. 5 and occassional 50 Paise.

She still didn’t picked her glass by the time I had finished mine. She was re-counting the coins, as if she had done some mistake.

Seeing her counting ‘so many’ coins for a glass of juice, I could not keep myself with ‘no-no principle’ to beggars. Taking out my purse, I said to the shopkeeper that I will pay for her juice too, please don’t take her handful of coins.

The shopkeeper said “no” and in broken Hindi he continued ” She gives coins us as ‘change’ and we exchange her with the currency notes.” I understood the barter system as well understood the need of coins by the shopkeeper. As a thanking gesture, shopkeeper gave her glass of juice too.

I had a mixed feeling for not given her coins, as well for the thanks giving gesture of shopkeeper with a glass of juice. After paying I came out of the shop seeing her.

From a distance I saw, she was holding the big glass of juice with her two hands, and sipping the juice (the nectar) slowly.