Thursday, December 12, 2013


(Today I scribbled something based on the seed of food. So I thought of linking it to write tribe, though the stipulated day is over).

 Food is God!
‘To a man with empty stomach, food is God.’ Mahatma Gandhi.

 A famished man thinks of only inserting something into his stomach rather than collecting delight from others.  No theory fills his belly, when his stomach covets shoddily for food. So he turns a locked ear to any philosophy.

Once when I was in a city bus, one seat, unnoticed by passengers, covertly invited me to it. I could accept the invitation of the seat, regardless of the crowd in it. One more person could sit beside me. I thought of attracting another person’s attention. But my attention left me and went out to watch the trees and building structures flashing past the bus. 

 Out of the blue a large, round aluminium vessel containing fish came skating near me. No sooner  did I look up in bewilderment than its owner jumped and sat by my side. She passed a challenging sight with the rightful shrug in it.

The presence of that person, her vessel, its smell and all enraged me. My ego was provoking me to ­­­­­poke my nose into her action. My intolerance and infuriating state grew to heights, as she exerted her pressure on me and pressed me against the wall of the bus. She made herself comfy there.

  Somehow with much difficulty ­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­ I managed to settle my ego by bringing forth my reason. It reminded me, “They have also equal privileges that you benefit from here. Moreover what you utter may fade in front of their barbaric words.”
My reason further advanced towards me, “Better you hold her on conversation so that she will hold back from hampering you.”

I silenced my ego in the inner chamber of my heart and my tongue vibrated with fabricated gentleness.
 “Did you vend all your fish today?”

A surprising gaze welcomed me, “No, I am going to the suburbs and there I can sell all my fish.” The words were garnished with reverence. I watched a melancholic shade displacing the impertinence on the face.

“Do you usually keep a portion of fish for your cuisine?”

“Oh! No, not at all, because, you know, I have to clean it for the buyers. Otherwise they will not address me. I will reach home late after procuring our groceries for the day. In fact I have to utilize the profit for the essentials of the house.”

“Who are you staying with?”

“My ailing husband and two offspring.”

“Do the kids go to school?”

“Yes, they are reading in class-2 and class-4.”

The bus was about to reach my stop. I handed over some cash to her in the name of the diminutives. Though I doubted its approval, her need in paucity pushed her to stretch the hand.

“You are the one who is barbaric, not her. Didn’t the awe-bearing sound of hers divulge the golden heart caged in her chest? It stands entirely for the welfare of her family.”My mind rebuked me.

The mask of ruggedness she had to wear was to tear away all the barriers. Poor woman, what a heavy load on her shoulders! Alas! Even when mother is a fisher-woman, children taste fish nil.


  1. Beautiful story. That woman is just a jackfruit. Rough outside appearance but sweet and caring and responsible inside.

  2. Yes, she is a jack fruit or coconut.Thank you ,SG.