Project Hope

All eyes were on the four dirt clad urchins that entered my so called posh residential complex. Had I not accompanied them, they might have been turned away as beggars. Well, technically, it’s not incorrect to refer to them as beggars. But, the fact that they at least try and entertain you with their jarring yet foot tapping numbers in the local trains, makes you want to accord them with a better status. I had met them over the past few months, travelling in the trains and always thought their talent could be put to a better use. So here they were, with me, wanting to figure out their lives, and mine.

They were amused with my space ship like elevator. The little girl, Ratan was her name, kept playing with the fan switch. They were almost upset that they had to offload the elevator on the fifth floor. We all entered my house. Their shoes were removed outside and mine inside. A custom, which would otherwise seem natural (my maid removes her chappals outside the house), seemed unsettling that day. Until, I asked them to bring their chappals inside the house. Poor 5-year-old Ratan didn’t wear chappals as she couldn’t afford them. I promised her she would get her pair when she comes home next.

They sat down, we talked. They said they wouldn’t mind having tea. Just for the context, no matter how tired my mother is she doesn’t allow me to prepare tea for; that’s how (in) effective my tea making skills are. But this time, I made them the best possible tea that I could. I don’t know whether they liked it. I didn’t ask, they didn’t say.

Returning to the point of conversation. Between sips of chai and Marie biscuits, Ramesh (20) spoke his first sentence. He was over shadowed by his overpowering 30-yearold cousin (uninvited must I add), but he chose to speak up this time round. He loved playing the Sarangi. Owing to his Rajasthani roots, playing sarangi came naturally to him. Playing in the train and earning money was fun because he got to play as well as earn money. But he said he wasn’t too sure if this is what he wanted in his life.

“I want to do stage shows,” he quipped all of a sudden.

Within minutes everyone seemed to have found consensus in what Ramesh uttered and began nodding their heads vigorously. They all agreed on forming an orchestra. But four is no number to form an orchestra. It was decided to get more kids into the fray. We decided upon meeting up again. This time with more kids. Logistics would then be worked out based on everyone’s ideas. They decided to return with a bag full of ideas for a new venture.

After all the talks and chai sips, suddenly there was nothing left to talk. All I could think of saying is asking them to play a song. So Ramesh on his hand made Sarangi, Ratan with her stones and Prabhat with his Sarangi and vocals chords began the often heard (and irritating at times) number….Pardesi Pardesi Jaana Nahi…..

They were charming, all of them. Nevertheless, it would take a lot of effort and grooming. But I’m not called a cousin of hope for nothing, am I!!!