The Ragpicker

Every day as I am reborn in this world the morning has some stories kept reserved to be experienced and breath in the fresh air of nature that keeps unfolding the morality the values and the new lease of life that unfolds each moment to moment.

I keep on observing the nature that wants to be heard each day.

5.2.2023

A usual morning time in Madarihat. As I peeped through the window outside the room, I could clearly see fine thin white matter that engulfed like a blanket the cold misty mysterious nature. Sun was nowhere to be seen. The far off huge tree has some hidden darkness where you will find rays of light inaccessible. Green foliages make a small cluster around close branches that are covered. Some movements of birds disturb the silence and these small branches make some momentary noise crisp clear and happy to shake old dust that has gathered on the leaves.

My single chance to glance at this event was so rare but has many repetitions waiting for the unfolding future. I dressed quickly and wanted to hurriedly face the weather that morning.

But my wife embarked to point out the climatic influence that may have crept in on my health. She was told I wish to go ahead with appropriate winter clothes. She agreed to let me go after a cup of tea.

So, I took my heels and set forth for the morning walk. Slowly leaving the approaching road to the national highway where I could stand and gaze at the opposite square. People are busy with activities. Some of them buy fish from a local vendor. Others are sipping a cup of tea around. I took the left side of the road and moved to a school ground. It was Madarihat Girl's High School ground. I could identify the white marks of clay that represent earlier events that were witnessed by the underlying grass of the dry ground. I placed my large plastic bag leaning close to one end of a football goal net. As I wish to walk free. Slowly I approached the school walls. It was painted with pictures that depict stories of our culture and portray historical events held in the past. Looking into these pictures I could deeply engrossed into the events hidden within those stories. A beating drummer holding a stick, ready to beat the skin of the drum to make a loud but smooth musical sound. Bringing the whole past into the present to live eternal now.

Walking I saw my shoes getting wet by the moisture accumulated by the overnight dews all around. A huge banyan tree without any green cover lay standing exposing all the branches like tentacles of nerves like inverted roots protruding outside the earth. Its hanging dry branches have longer shoots that want to penetrate deep into the mother earth at its earliest.

I moved to Saraswati maa statue. Freshly dressed with open black hairs, peeping broad eyes with extended eyelashes, the gorgeous look holds a musical instrument on its left. Ik tara with threads acting as strings of the instruments, cleverly crafted long fingers ornamentation. No place left to feel her alive. I stood at a distance observing the large lotus flower base on which she stands with a peacock and a swan. I had a conversation with that idol. I told politely to guide me if she can for something that I don't know at that moment. I left the idol with the remark that as long as I will visit the ground I will have my conversation with her in future.

It reminded me about my own mother, how she introduced me to Saraswati Puja in Bengali High School Dhantoli Nagpur where as a primary school teacher she herself took me once to witness the event. I recalled how in the Mandap a boy was dancing on tiger beats holding a fire light on a clay stand. "Dhatang Dhatang Dhata Dhatang....".

The chanting sound still lives in my head.

Looking at the white blue walls of the school, I asked, "How many generations of girls would appear in these classes?".

The type of school teachers that are required to teach these students have high moral characters and aptitude. What qualifications are challenging each day for these teachers and students alike facing the ordeal of life.

I continued my walk looking at the tips of my moist shoes. If only cow dung and other waste were not there on the green grass, I would have walked barefoot on the ground feeling the skin contact with the tiny grasses.

I could see stray dogs sitting at their usual place of occupation on the ground resting, claiming their boundary that no trespassers were allowed even when that local place was a part of that large ground and a straight path that I wish to travel. I restricted my movements and confined the safe zone to repeatedly see the plastic bag that still lay resting on the football goal pole.

A lonely old thin and short woman appeared hunting gathering some thrown away bottles and such materials that may bring some money in the vee hours. Rag-pickers, who contribute to solid waste management to some extent, are the people who rummage through garbage bins to pick out 'rags' for their livelihood. These rag-pickers usually collect the materials that have good resale value as these materials are mostly recycled or reused. I was of the opinion that morning time should not be utilized to think about the economy and disdain early sweeping and cleaning activities that are usually practiced by people in their houses, especially by the woman folks. This activity could have been done the previous night itself welcoming the new day with some spiritual commitments.

A board that wrote "not to spread pollution and filthy materials around" on the walls behind a temple-like house facing the school ground.

The rag picker woman has been picking the articles around and I thought that she might not pick up my plastic bag that shines new and clean. But on my subsequent round I found that bag missing and the woman out of sight. I looked and found none to identify closer along with that plastic bag. Hurriedly I moved outside to search for the woman but I looked left and right to look as far as the mist could allow me to see. I thought maybe she had traveled with that bag hurriedly and eloped, never to be seen. It was difficult to identify and know her destination. Few shops here, few passersby near and everything was at a standstill. I could not make any decision. I thought she might have traveled towards the market area, so I walked towards the school ground. As I turned, I found a plastic bag of similar material lying on the grass near the national highway closer to the road but it was small and unappealing to be picked up by me. I thought maybe nature wants to give something in return for the lost bag. I thought if that is so, i still don't want that similar bag. As it might have been left by the ragpicker purposefully intending satisfaction to herself in exchange for a better bag. She might have discarded the bag as she got a new one. I also thought that the old bag might have been thrown away by some unknown person by mistake.

I walked to the school ground taking the shortest path on the dry white mud, making some imprints on the powdered area and moving a little faster to search for the ragpicker then. I could see from a distance that a ragpicker in dark clothes was making a move by collecting some long wooden branches. As I neared her I could see her clearly moving with my green plastic new bag. At last I could identify the bag and the women. I walked hurriedly and doubted if that woman would return my bag or not. I ran faster as she was making a vanishing movement along the narrow exit from the school ground on the other side.

I reached after making a safe jump across the cemented water canal border and with a calculated move presented myself suddenly before the ragpicker.

"This plastic bag is mine, I suppose. You accidentally picked it up, I think so. Please give it back. It's mine".

"Oh!, I looked around and found nobody claiming this bag for a long time. And so, I picked it up. Please have it." said the ragpicker in surprise.

She returned the bag immediately.

"There is another bag at the roadside. I saw it. If you want that I can give it to you. Come, let's go and get it for you. Wait. I will bring it for you as you may take some time to walk hurriedly with me".

So I said," You wait here. I will bring it for you."

I walked a little on the ground taking the same path towards the old bag. Then I thought this ragpicker may leave without my knowledge and my instruction to wait for the bag. I have to hurry. So, I began to run for the old bag. Somebody might pick it up before I reach there. I started running. My heart beats went high. Couldn't stop. I have to bring the bag for her. Adjoining people were watching my move. I didn't care for them but kept running. Reached the roadside. Fetched the bag with my right hand and stood for a while. Two bags now with me. I was walking back to the ragpicker. I thought with two bags I could return the good one to that ragpicker or the old one. I clearly saw that the old one was having a hole on one side of the bag. I had a choice for the woman. She also had the same choice. As I neared the ragpicker on the other side of the school ground I saw a cow watching my activities. I can clearly see in her eyes what in a flash she could understand as an animal all that was going one before her about the bag. As If it was a testing time for me to return the bag. "Which Bag?? New or torn one". A question that I could read in her deep black eyes.

Of Course the ragpicker has to decide. With two bags in front of the ragpicker, what could be the choice for the ragpicker naturally. The ragpicker just chose the old one. "This one is torn on one side. Could you manage it? Or take this new one". I said.

"Oh.! The old one will do. I don't need the new one."The rag picker picked the old torn plastic bag and went away.

I also walked with my new bag and crossed the school ground never to see that ragpicker again.