PReSeNT

Preface:

Summers in Chennai are rather extreme. Temperatures tend to increase on an hourly basis. Last I heard, a team of professors and top students here at Chennai are planning to build a turbine that would make effective use of the rising mercury for power generation *pun intended ;)*. But technology apart .. everyone knows Chennai is hot. I am used to the scorching Chennai sun, as I spent most of my childhood summer vacations at Chennai. I and my cousins had mastered the art of survival and we did that with loads of ice (from the juice shop next door), lassi and the one of its kind pannir soda (pannir = scented .. but it was actually rose flavored soda). Somehow, being at Chennai brings back a lot of memories for me .. esp. the sepia toned photos of my parents and my grandparents and aunts that hang on the walls of my grand parents’ home. I love my grandpa a lot 🙂 and I was excited as I had just reserved my ticket to Chennai. I was supposed to take two of my MS papers at Chennai. I only wished, I could prepare for them.

Chapter 1:

“Sir yenge pownuu ?” (Sir where do you want to go?) asked the conductor of the legendary MTC bus (legendary cos its pretty old service fleet, MTC = Metropolitan Transport Corp.) I was in. “uhm!! Perumbur sir” I said handing over twelve rupees for the ticket. I had finished one of the papers and was returning home. Luckily, this bus was not very crowded and I could manage to find a seat with a good view 🙂 As the bus stopped over several stops, I tried to read things like street names and some office names. Least did I know that the bus was getting crowded enough now, that people were standing around me. Sometime after the Mylapore temple, I saw an elderly gentleman, much like my own grandpa standing in front of me, gripping whatever support he could find, so that he wont be affected by the bus driver’s thaliavar style (Thaliavar = head, boss .. which is Rajinikanth when in Chennai) driving. I look around, look at the ceiling of the bus to see if it has any senior citizen reserved seats. Sadly, everything was in Tamil and I don’t know it that well to read the seemingly loopy script. I stand up and offer my seat to this elderly gentleman, as anyone else would have done. I cant let my grandpa stand when I am sitting, can I?

Chapter 2:

“Taata, tanni vennumaa?” she asked (Grandpa, do you want some water?). I must say her bindi complemented her earrings with the same elegant simplicity that her face and posture projected. One would not be able to take their eyes off her, since her face had some magnetic quality that would make you forget the way to move your cranium away from her face. Not that I am expert in reading faces, but in some manners she looked like a Tamil Brahmin (Iyengar I think). She wore a greenish white dress, that, to a large extent suited her manners. Her hair were tied, I think more to help with the heat, than to follow a tradition, since a few strands hung loosely and flowed like a small stream of water, whenever the bus moved. From the look of things, it appeared as if she knew the elderly gentleman whom I offered my place. As she handed the bottle of water to him, she looked at me, and with humility smiled at me, as if to say thank you. You are more than welcome, I wanted to scream, but considering that I was amongst the overcrowded & easily reactive crowd, I simply nod, as if trying to say that it was not at all a problem. All this while, she sat right behind the place from where I got up and had a small bag along side her with a bottle of water among few other things.

Chapter 3:

My other paper, was early in the morning (c’mon 10 am is pretty early 😛 ) and I was trying to read .. er.. revise some encoding algorithms. I was so much involved with it that I hardly took any notice of the things around me. Fortunately, no one disturbed me either, perhaps I must have looked like I was going to write the exam of my life 😉 . As the conductor’s whistle brought the bus to halt somewhere around Nungambakam, I saw that she was getting into the bus. She happened to notice me and occupied the seat that was right across the aisle from me. She gave me a smile and started frantically digging into her bag. She looked a little different today.. as she was getting into the bus, her face implied something was worrying her .. but she seemed to be happy at the mere sight of finding me in the bus. I was confused as  she pulled out a ruled note book and started turning the pages. She tore one page, the last one she must have written and gently folded the piece of paper. “This is for you.. please accept” she said handing over the piece of paper to me. She seemed to be at ease now as she handed the piece of paper to me.. and smiled at me, as if implying that I should read, what seemed to be a letter, now. With a wry smile, I open the letter, to find beautifully written blue cursive English letters that somehow seemed to be poetry in its own accord. Written in a standard format, I could see that it was dated yesterday. “Dear sir” it started, when I look up towards her, more to understand what she was expecting from me. With her eyes gleaming, her manner of smile implied that I should continue.

Chapter 4:

” … my teacher says that the best way we can preserve something that is good in someone, is by appreciating it. Yesterday, as you offered your seat to Taata, I felt that is a good quality, one that needed to be appreciated. …

…… my teacher had asked my class to write a letter to an anonymous person whom we saw doing a good deed. I am worried you’d never get a chance to read this letter. Nonetheless, I really appreciate the good deed and hope that someday Indians would be as polite and disciplined as our books say they should. ..” .. perhaps this was the first time I observed the very first line of this page, that read “Assignment #3: Write a letter appreciating someone who did a good deed, while you had a chance to observe.”

As the bus started to approach Adyar bridge, my destination, I had read the entire thing over about 3 times. I could not but wonder at the possibility that India could be a better place, if only people would be more appreciating of good deeds. As I finished reading and extended to return the letter, I read for the last time the signature ….

”

Yours Appreciatively,

Ananya Krishnan,

Class VI, PSBB Chennai.

”

I smile and return the letter saying .. “thank you 🙂 It is a good thing your teacher taught you and I appreciate your letter 🙂 … This is your homework, right? So you should show your teacher this one …. it is well thought and written. All the best to you in life … and yes lets make India better”

As the bus slowed its pace, indicating that my alighting point was approaching, I bid goodbye to this beautiful little girl whose manners show that humility is a virtue one should have. She waved at me .. before asking me .. “sir, unnoda peryenna ?” (Sir, what is your name?)

I smile and reply back “Santosh .. and you are Ananya Krishnan, right?” she nodded with a smile and waved as the bus moved on to its next destination.

Closing Notes:

Thanks for reading through 🙂  It could be hard to believe that such a thing would actually happen in life. But it has a good possibility of happening 🙂 . This work however is a filament of my imagination … based on some real-life experiences. Let me know what you think 🙂