An Activist, I am not.

A visit to Kasarwadi has changed quite a lot of my thoughts and perceptions. I went for Devi Darshan three days in a row. I was noticed as I was the only odd one out in that place and one who did not belong to them or their area. Some young guy had died , so there was no Garba. All were wearing white as that was the colour of the day. Not for mourning. In Maharashtra, each day of Navratri belongs to a Goddess form, thus She is known as Nav Durga. There is a colour for each Goddess which men and women who believe in traditions follow. This day the colour was white and it went in with the sombre mood there. The time was 9.40 pm. Children were playing badminton with table tennis bats. Young boys were hanging around in their crisp white shirts. But the girls were wearing different colours. The lights were all lit up in the lane and in the Pandal. The people near the Pandal were hunting for Prasad for me. I got two bananas in a plastic bag.

 I started walking back, wondering about the boy who had lost his battle to TB a few minutes back. Was it TB or alcohol induced death? Suddenly a group of eight boys in white shirts and jeans surrounded me. I was stopped and did not know why. The oldest of them was talking while the rest were just staring. He asked for donation for the Bhandaar/Langar (community meal), they were having on 12th october. He said they have ordered 80kgs Shrikhand from a Dairy and want me to sponsor that. I told them to show me the receipt book and I shall give what I feel like. I point blank refused the big sponsorship they were looking at. They knew I lived across the road. They did not have any invite or a receipt book. I left them stunned with my straight talk. As I crossed the lane, the cops were standing. One was on a call to his superior, informing him that the Garba had not started. I told the cop it won't start as there was a death in the chawl.

All plans of taking my children to the chawl to learn simple Garba and experience a simple life were dropped. The way those men in white had surrounded me had left me shocked. I handled it well. I knew home and cops was just across the lane. Maybe those men were scared to approach me alone, so they decided to form a gang and come. But I was not buying any of it. I reached home to the warmth of husband watching tv, the night maid doing dishes and the children resisting to sleep. I looked down from the eleventh floor and felt safe in my cocoon. One thought did strike me about the women from NGOs who go to work in slums and the resistance they must be facing.

Next morning on my way back after running some errands, I saw the BMC people cutting a tree outside my gate. I asked the most decent looking man in a white shirt why they were doing it. He said"I can stop if you tell me to." His people up on the tree stopped cutting. Then he asked me to speak to the people who have complained that the tree enters their house. I turned around. A bald moustached man was leaning against a car eating Paan. A coolie like worker came to me asking what happened. The tree which was entering a house was a balcony which had a grill and mosquito nets on the grill. A lot of Mumbaites don't like trees as they feel mosquitoes come with greenery. Three people wanted to know why I was stopping the tree cutting. I told the guy not to cut more than a branch. The man in white told one Mother and her small child to move. The branch came crashing down and so did my spirit of activism.