A 15 minute wait at the gate for the transport followed by another 5 minute wait for the driver to come.
A beep from the phone and you see a message from the god-forsaken-same-destination-bound-person- ‘wait for 5 minutes, me too coming’
The wait for him would take ages to get done with. After another 15 minutes and puppy face to cover his face, he would join the crew to get started for the ‘yogam’.
The bus chugs and chooes through the kachcha village road and by the time, you reach the ‘oors’ and ‘backams’ and ‘purams’, you become black and blue.
The rickety bus ride ends as the battered bus pulls into the shade of the banyan tree that sprawls into the peaks of infinity.
The tired backs yearn to rest on the protruding roots of the tree which doubles up as comfy seats. The coordinator from the ‘P’ would suggest that we should set forth to the north side of the village. The D representative bounces back with a reply to go to the school and teach the poor ‘blessed’ souls.
While the tag in the turf progresses, the other members would have made the shade of the banyan tree and its benevolent roots home. Somebody would grab packs of crisps and cokes from the neighbourhood shop and start munching and global talks.
The time when a consensus reaches, the members would be 3 or 4 bottles down and the empty covers of the crisps would pile to form a small mount.
The sun would be blazing enough for the lice on the ladies’ head to take a sunbath. The walk to the decided place- the village school would be hindered by the sun and the ogling by the village ruffians at our group’s gender diversity.
The children in the village weren’t notified about the arrival. The Sunday morning crucification of having us deprive us of our sleep and the children of their playtime. Finally we would manage to get hold of around 10 scantily clad kids and thus the war of the words was waged.
Most of the children knew little or new English. Except the coordinator, none in the group could speak fluent Tamil.
The children would ask something in Tamil. The response would be the assumed up answer of what the hearer perceived based on the situations, in English. Thus the fun would go on.
Showered with doubts on random things like ‘What is 1 in Tamil?’ and ‘How do you ask the child his name in Tamil?’, the Tamil speaker would be in a fix.
By the time the conversation gets to the other, yeah, the allotted 3 hour limit would have ticked off.
The major aim of such a noble thought, an idea of philanthropism and social commitment seems nullified with the bridges as wide as ever.
The underlying emotion to serve the world with disparities on both the sides hampers the effect of generating leadership for the benefactor and the benefits for the beneficiary.
After all, the contemplating actions to serve the society is supposed to come from the heart. The imposed mandate on the corporates to earmark 2% of their profits for CSR is nothing but branding and advertising for the company. Drawing analogy to the fact, the question that still remains is ‘ Does the action sink in to the heart as much as it does to the mind?’
Jaago ‘V.’ Jaago!!