Magic in this town

You know that moment when you know there is a beautiful story inside you, and you just want to write it out but time is challenging you. It passes, it flies with inevitable chores.

And finally, the moment arrives.

And you sit, sighing.

It's a Sunday, late-afternoon that's almost touching an orangish-pink sunset.

I am sitting in front of my white drafting table and my mind is dialing back to that auto ride.

Wind, heavy and cold; flowing into my petite self; those heavy earrings dangling to its tune.

Brown skin yearning to wrap something around me, but I just sit there in that rapidly moving auto allowing the wind to dictate.

Not resisting.

Not protecting.

Just feeling, and being.

I look ahead at this human driving us around.

He did that for an entire day till it ended, with patience and love.

The second love language I have learnt is ~acts of service and this man right here; devotedly loved my family.

Mahesha,  he introduced himself in the morning.

He lived in this small town, was born in Sringeri and now drived around this yellow-black saviour of an auto around Sri Ranagapatna.

As we talked through the day, he told dad that he had lost his ; seven years ago and thus had to stop studying after his tenth standard.

I've always had a revered corner for autos, but this one had my whole heart.

He was a human who knew the tiny streets of Sri Rangapatna like he had by hearted the palm lines of the one he loved.

There are very few people who make you feel safe in silence, without even saying much. And he was one of them.

He'd reply to whatever dad or mom asked him, nod and acknowledge instructions given, and always let out this childlike innocent laughter every time dad made a joke.

There was so much innocence that had been saved, he was driving it around with people's heart on his sleeves.

He was only a year older than I am, but he had been the only bread earner for seven years at his home.

I felt so much empathy when he said he lives alone with his mother, but he wiped it away soon. He had a glint of a content life in his eyes when he narrated how he got sheets fixed to his leaking roof; all by himself.

He felt joy by fixing what needed to be fixed, by cradling a big responsibility like it were a child.

I don't have a photograph of him, or a conversation that was recorded; but his silence and sense of responsibility is safely parked in my mind.

And my day in this small town will forever be remembered as a day made of auto rides.

Story 2

I walked out of the tiny railway station which had bright colours on its walls. Orange and yellow ruling the wall had Sri Rangapatna written on it.

There were large banyan trees playing with light; leaving shadows on the ground, and at a distance; there was something that made my heart jump in joy.

Literally jump in joy. I was screaming OMGG for real.

It was a large fort, with a recurring leaf like pattern on its thick wall; enclosing a beautiful ancient temple made entirely of stone.

It felt like my sketches from history sketchbooks came to life, suddenly.

I felt alive looking at it because I had sailed through seven semesters of architecture writing and sketching these out, and here I was; standing in front of a temple, made of stone and star shaped pillars.

I walked around the temple in awe, prayed with my eyes closed as I felt the sunlight streaming in through the intended openings in the stone roof.

I felt an energy I had never felt before; watching century old idols being worshipped with utmost devotion.

There was one particular idol, Vishnu resting in the iconic posture, with a serene smile. Just like water.

That idol had such a peaceful expression and I felt so overwhelmed by the craftsmanship our country held. By the love for sculpture, it still holds.

We walked along a shaded corridor after sitting in silence inside. There was a small stone building in a corner and I saw two men sitting and talking unanimously, I could hear some faint words and light laughter.

We walked towards the building to ask them the function of that building and I experienced a rare moment. 

I witnessed the most heartfelt conversation, watching words flow from the other side.

A long-faced brown man, who was now in the watchman's attire, had served in the border security force decades ago.

And another middle aged good human, the watchman's boss; in a simple cream shirt named Mahadev.

They both introduced themselves as people from the archaeological department.

As we talked, Mahadev uncle mapped out close to three unique trips that could be made. He spoke stories that all sounded magical but are very real with proof; from a lamp that has been burning continuously for thousands of years now to a town that holds generational ancient temples.

And he was so generous enough to tell dad that " I will pick your call anytime you call me, it's my duty to help and you don't have to think if I will be busy or not."

Both of them held a sacred blanket of goodness that was spread, made us sit and conversed for minutes. They gifted us each some time and a tiny bit of their heart made of gold through their conversations.

It felt beautiful to be wrapped in that goodness and really learn and understand the meaning of being selfless and radiating non transactional kindness.

Story 3

Our train didn't stop at Sri Rangapatna, it was an express way.

We had to take another train at Mysore and retreat back two stations to reach the town we wanted to experience.

We took a Local train, jam packed with all kinds of people.

Me, my sister and mom sat on a seat which had two women already.

Five humans on the seat, was packed by itself. 

A lady walked by, god forgive but she had a resisting face with lots of blisters all over her face and body.

I repelled, I cannot lie.

She had a man following him and she kept nugdging us to move and make space when it was practically impossible.

I low key snapped at her saying there are five people already, there is no space at all.

And after a lot of chaotic conversations, one uncle and my dad got up from the seat opposite to ours to give them some space.

The train began moving.

After a few minutes, that lady got a call, she said a quick hello and handed it to that old man.

He started talking. 

He spoke exactly like my grandfather. 

The tone, choice of words and every action in his reply mirrored my grandfather's phone calls I'd have years ago.

My resistance towards them shattered, I saw my grandfather in his behaviour.

" Hello, kelasthaidyaa?....Train Al iddini maga.

Bangalore ge barthayidini, bega baritini.

~The child suggested something on the other side, and he went

Ollay idea ne kotidya maga. Bangalore ge bandmel hoganna.

And then he went 

Amman Kai Al kodu. 

Referring, the phone be given to the child's mom.

That was a standard way of how my conversations would end with my grandfather.

He never cut the call without talking to my mom after we had spoken.

I immediately took a packet of gems I had in my grey bag and handed it to him saying , this is a gift for your grandchild.

I wanted to give him something, because I relived my grandfather's presence and subconsciously, maybe as an apology for repelling his wife earlier. Human behaviour, I guess.

And when I heard him say those lines to his grandchild, tears flowed down my cheek like two rivers in monsoon. It flowed. And as much as it hurt and I missed my grandfather, I found some form of peace witnessing humans that mirrored him.

Story 4

This one is my favourite.

Okay, so I have this thing. I find it really beautiful to watch someone do a task with focus.

Lost in their little world, all their attention on that one thing. I have always treasured undivided attention and I cherish people who live by it. It's beautiful. I try to capture it sometimes. I clicked a picture of a graceful woman, a gardener.

I noticed her from a distance and without my brain even processing my wish to click a photograph of her, I started walking towards.

I went up to her and asked her if I could take a photograph.

She let me.

I clicked one.

And felt like taking a small video of her watering this Summer Palace garden with that heavy water hose.

I asked her to water the plants, just the way she had been and captured a small video.

From this very moment, I experienced magic.

Just as I finished clicking, she had this wide smile ; curiosity painted all across her expression.

She went " Showww" 

Just the way I would have reacted in joy if a friend clicked a picture of me.

She saw the photograph, and I am guessing, she mentally spoke to herself saying ~"You look great doing your job Gowri"

At least that is what her expression translated. She loved herself in that photograph, standing in the sun on that light green lawn with a brown girl in front of her in a light green kurta.

After a brief moment of staring at her photograph, she looked at me and asked don't you want one too?!

I happily nodded because this would definitely be fun.

She had never used a smartphone or never clicked a picture yet she had this curiosity to learn. To do something she had never done in her entire life.

She was like "Will you teach me how to take a video?"

I nodded with a smile, I taught her.

I told her ~Press this red button, it will start recording and then press it again to stop 

She followed everything I said and captured a really beautiful moment.

Me, in that lime green kurta ; standing in the sun and smiling. Watering the Summer Palace of Tipu Sultan, how surreal is that. OMG.

She pressed the red button to stop recording and handed me the phone back. Yet again, in all excitement she went ~Showww to watch what she had just recorded.

And I did. 

I watched her live a moment she had never experienced in time.

And as she finished watching that video, we talked for a bit. She had been working for twenty years in that same place as a gardener at the Tipu's Summer Palace. We exchanged smiles and names. And before leaving, I told her, that talking to her and meeting her made me really happy.

She had such a profound expression like all of this was happening for the first time in her twenty years of nourishing that garden.

And she was like "Nobody ever does this, Thank you. And she was fully smiling."

And I walked back towards my family, feeling something that just couldn't be described. And I didn't have to, they'd had been watching this all along even though they were somewhere far away.

And we walked towards the exit, as these stories made a collage of blue skies, green grass, beauty and gratitude in my heart's journal. 

It all read as ~joy when zoomed out, there was a tangible magic in this town.

Here is a the small video which she clicked :’)

Unedited, clumsy in the end; and as real as our lives.