A Morning at the Feet of Yogi Hills

A weekday morning. A garden at the feet of Yogi Hills, Mumbai

Tum agar saath dene ka vaada karo, mein yunhien mast nagme sunata rahoon sang the octogenarian, telling about how he would continue to sing these soulful songs if his soulmate would only promise to be by his side always.

The morning walkers in the garden making their rounds are amused and entertained as senior citizens gather under the gazebos lining the path.

Squirrels, crows, pigeons, hens, cocks who have made the garden their home, await feeding time.

A little ahead there is another group singing Karvate badalte rahein saari raat hum, aapki kasam – I kept turning from one side to another all night long…

Some of the elders smile meaningfully.

Sure enough, the lyrics stay the same but the context changes as we age. Lovesickness causes sleeplessness in youth whereas insomnia makes us change sides as the advanced years clock in.

With patriotic fervor, a group on a shaded platform, roar slogans and the national anthem. Their neighbouring group just claps.

An energetic group of mostly Sikhs in turbans play throwball. Their occasional yells overpower all the other sounds.

Lonesome souls sit on isolated benches for meditation and pranayama in perfect lotus positions, completely oblivious of the world going by.

Slightly uphill, a group of yoga enthusiasts move in unison to pay their respects to the sun in rhythmic sets of surya namaskar.

Monkeys climb down from the tallness of trees and hang around the Hanuman temple. One of them sneaks up behind unsuspecting young lovers and shocks them out of their wits.   

“Bham Bham Bhole!” bellows a devotee somewhere uphill. His cry stuns the stillness and then merges into other subdued sounds.

“Hari Om” people greet each other, dispelling darkness and giving way to light.

Every half an hour or so, the faces of the walkers change as people enter and exit continuously.

An elderly man patiently takes small steps with his swollen arthritic legs in neat socks and shoes. It takes him an hour to complete one walking round.

His dog faithfully waits for him.

A Naughty Plan in Hanumanpada

Nowadays I practice yoga in the early mornings with a group of people from the neighbourhood who meet in a garden on the hill that is frequented by monkeys. The place is called Hanumanpada and it has a temple dedicated to the monkey-god, Hanuman. 

The uphill path to the pyramidal structure where we practice is  green velvety monsoony mossy. I almost slipped the first time I went there. The others warned me to walk only in the centre where the moss is worn out with footfalls. 

One day, as we walked downhill after our practice, I noticed a banana skin strategically lying in the centre of the path waiting for an accident to happen. 

Who could have done such a thing? Most people who gather there are soft-spoken and well-mannered with adequate schooling which probably taught them about not laying banana peels on walking paths.

We looked around and then looked up to spy this ape patiently waiting for his naughty plan to come to fruition.

His Way of Doing Things

The girl at the neighbourhood grocery counter was printing my receipt when an elderly gentleman rushed into the store. 

"Please can you give me change for Rs. 500? I am going to the temple and I need it for the offering."

We smiled at each other as I bagged my vegetables. 

The girl started counting out his money. 

"You know" he explained "all this money belongs to God already. He is the one who gives and He is the one who takes. And it is He who decides how much to take from whom. My asking for this change is just His way of doing things."

"The Only Thing I Can Do Very Well"

A lady got into the shared autorickshaw at Holi bazaar today. She heaved her bag in and then lifted each foot one by one to sit beside me.


A broad big-toothy smile.


“My knees ache” she said. 


“I see.”


“I wake up at 3 a.m. every day.”


“Really?”


“Yes, and then I pray the rosary ten times. Being illiterate, I cannot read. But I know how to pray.”


I nodded.


“After prayers, I go to the Holi bazaar to sell vegetables. It’s good to be active, no? If I sit at home, I will lose my confidence. So, I drag these painful legs around and keep doing stuff.”


“That’s brave.”


A flash of a smile. 


“My family is big with eight grandchildren. The eldest works in a hotel now. I am from the village of K and after marriage, I moved to the village of N. All is well in my family. I say a total of about twenty rosaries daily. That is the only thing I can do very well.”


I had to get off the autorickshaw at the post office. 


“Ok, bye, I wish you well.”


“I will pray for you” she said and the autorickshaw whizzed past before her smile faded.