Manasa loved the tunnels that she passed on her way to
Pune. Initially she counted them adding 13 of them until it became dark. In the
twilight, she lost count and dreamily looked out of the train window at the
mist laden greenery surrounding each hill. It was her first trip to Pune and
she was full of expectations. The train slowed down and rumbled into the Pune
railway station. It pulled up at a platform that resounded with calls of
passengers. Manasa saw a group of tourists. They carried backpacks and looked
lost. They climbed out of the compartment and inhaled the warm air sonorously.
Manasa copied them and tried to identify the smell. She slung her bag over her
shoulder and stepped away from the train. A stream of passengers went to her
left. She surmised that it must be the way to the exit and entered the stream.
She was dazed at the beginning. It was a long walk along the train. Afterwards,
near the exit, the crowd scattered and she could see outside.
Immediately outside the station were a host of rickshaws.
The drivers left their vehicles and towed near the passengers to negotiate the
fare. The passengers walked as if they would make it to their destinations on
foot if the right fare was not accepted.
Manasa smelt the air once again. This time she recognized
it as the smell of pineapples. Sure enough, she saw to her right a huge pile of
pineapples, grapes and strawberries on a cart. The man behind the cart was busy
spinning a wheel and the juice oozed out of the spout of the juice maker in
quiet gushes. The sight itself rejuvenated Manasa.
Her first impulse was to have a glass of fruit juice from
this vendor. But she hesitated. She was supposed to take a rickshaw to KP. Her
boyfriend Dileep had excused himself. “I can’t come to pick you up, dear. I
have a lecture to attend.” He had said on the phone. He instructed her to go to
lane 5 of KP. “Say, ‘KP, Lane 5’ to the rickshaw-walla; ok?”
Manasa looked about her. Further right was a cart of
bananas. She smiled to herself. It was quite apparent that the seller had a
good time. The cart was almost empty and the bananas were scattered in sets of
2 or 3. She screwed up her nose and darted her gaze from one cart to another,
unable to make up her mind. The fruit punch or the fruit meal, she thought
aloud.
Glued to the spot, she recalled a recent taste of fruit
juice. It was in Hyderabad. She had insisted on a use and throw plastic glass
as a precaution. The juice seller had served her fresh juice from 3 oranges.
The freshly peeled oranges were dropped into the funnel and the baton went
after it. The wheel turned and juice oozed out into the sieve and disappeared
under it.
Manasa remembered the pungent taste of the dregs of that
orange juice. She regretted it immediately. Standing in front of the Pune
railway station, she involuntarily shook her head and spouted a silent cry of
dismay. Not the juice. The bananas are safer.
Suddenly her phone rang. She fished it out of her handbag
and smiled. It was Dileep’s call. He said, “Wait there; I am on my way.”
Manasa hung up and looked about. There was no place to
sit. She sensed passengers rushing out of the station again. There must have
been another train. She turned round to look. Yes, there was a fresh gush of
people at the exit. She did not wish to be bumped about. She hurried out of the
way. She went to the right where the banana cart stood.
“Can I have some bananas please?” she asked.
“Rs. 50 for a dozen.” replied the seller.
“No. I just want to eat 2 bananas now. Or, give me 3 of
them. That will be of Rs. 10. No?”
The seller took 3 bananas and a plastic carry bag. Manasa
thought that she did not need the carry bag because she would eat the bananas
immediately and trash the peels. She was conscious that plastic bags were
non-bio-degradable and should be avoided. She said, “I don’t need the bag.
Thank you” and walked away.
One by one she peeled the bananas and ate them. Clumsily
she held all the peels in her hand. She looked around for a trash bin. The sky
was totally dark by then. There were street lights. The rickshaws made their
way out to the main road. The busses on the road roared with impatience as the
passengers alighted. Many hawkers cried out their wares fearing that the day
would end soon.
Manasa looked desperately around. She noticed small
pieces of peels of fruits and stubs of vegetables lying under the carts. She
noticed a cluster of plastics and papers lying at the bottom of the steps. She
craned her neck and observed the place around the bus stand nearby. She looked
across the road managing to gaze through the chink between 2 busses. All the
while it buzzed in her head that there was no trash bin in the vicinity.
Dileep arrived. Manasa spotted him from a distance. It
gladdened her heart. She looked around and spotted the same banana cart.
Swiftly she walked up to it and asked the seller to give her a plastic carry
bag. He did and she put the peels that she had been holding in her hands into
it.
Dileep came closer and asked, “What’s that? Bananas?”
Manasa’s heart lighted up and she started chatting
brightly. She did not answer Dileep’s question directly. She talked about the
train, the tunnels and the crowd that always made her squirm. Then they climbed
onto the rickshaw which Dileep had hired.
The plastic carry bag hung from Manasa’s wrist all the
while. Dileep was too absorbed in her talk to notice it or ask about it again.
He looked forward to dinner. He felt that it would be better to go to an eating
joint before turning homewards. Once home it would take too long before they
could think of going out again for dinner. So he directed the rickshaw-driver
to a restaurant.
Manasa climbed out of the rickshaw sprightly. As Dileep
paid and pulled out her bag, she exclaimed, “Where’s your house?”
“We’ll have dinner here and then go to the house. Ok?”
Ok, said Manasa in her head. As soon as she took a seat
in the restaurant, she undid from her wrist the plastic carry bag with the
banana peels in it and put it on the table. Dileep asked, “What’s this,”
forgetting his first impression that those were bananas in it.
“Oh Dileep! These are bananas I had eaten at the railway
station. Imagine! There were no trash bins around. I did not know what to do
with the peels. So I just put them in this bag and carried it with me. Aren’t
people practicing ‘Swachchha Bharat’ in Pune? The whole place was littered with
trash.
Dileep was astonished. He exclaimed, “There’re only
banana peels in this bag!?”
“Oh yes, wait…” said Manasa and hailed the waiter, saying
“Excuse me please, could you throw this in your trash bin?”
Dileep smiled and said under his breath, “Only you are
practicing ‘Swachchha Bharat’ over here I guess.”
ANURADHA BHATTACHARYYA
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