GOOD TIDINGS FOR BRISHTI

 It was raining buckets. Ten year old Brishti was selling balloons at the signal. She took shelter under the tree. Her heart pounding said ‘No one will buy! ‘ 

Brishti is a COVID 19 orphan. Her Ma and Papa both were taken away by the treacherous hands of the Pandemic. 

Brishti's father had migrated to silicon valley, Bangalore , from a quaint little village of puppeteers from Rajasthan. Along with him came his 3 children, a wife and a bag full of colourful puppets.

 He believed his puppets were his saving angels. They would never ever let him down in this quizzing city. 

He settled himself along with other migrant street performers under the construction site of the metro rail. 

A strange hamlet existed here and each performing artist had a story to tell, even though their life style remained the same, their stories changed. 

Every reality bite, every challenge, every day under blistering sun, torrential rain, insane traffic they learnt the life of the city, no more desert dwellers striding over sand, camel caravan and sandy romance. The city and it's grey skies veiled their aspirations of a better life. Every deceit, every hurt, every generous gesture one at a time turned them into street smart urban tribals. 

Bristi's father Raghuveer Rathore a tall lanky man with sun kissed skin, took on the family heirloom of puppet making and puppet theatre. He would leave his home with his band of puppets and wander on the streets and attract pedestrians with his puppet shows and those haunting songs of being away from his desert home, his people his culture, his food and the fragrance of sand in the breeze. 

His favourite spot which he visited every weekend was the Rangoli metro station on MG Road. 

The Boulevard is an exciting venue for street shows and street performers. 

Raghuveer satiated his yearnings of roaming in the village fair from the evening he spent in the weekender 's free for all thoroughfare. 

Freelance photographer's on their beat for street photography would click lovely photos of him and share on social media. This really made Raghuveer Rathore build castles in the air! 

 A small fee is charged for putting up a stall by the municipality which Raghuveer could not afford but as I said he had learnt the ways of the city and so collaborated with a lady, Jenna by name who would set up her traditional toy and activity center there. 

Raghu's puppets attracted a big crowd.. Jenna was a good lady, she allowed him to share space free and also shared profit with him.. 

Raghu also liked to set up his puppet theatre at the Nandanavana Children's park in Jayanagar. He excitedly mentioned to me that all his puppets giggled and played better meeting the children. 

The open space and breezy green avenues were such a gift to his puppets.. Their breathing resonated a rhyme and connected the audience. 

Restless children with mouths open enjoyed every bit. They transported themselves into the dolls and later spoke what the doll had to offer. 

Under the bridge Rereebai managed her household in dust and muck. Their tarpaulin tent immediately needed a change but from where? 

With her twin baby boys she could hardly have time to mend her broken buttons. Roadside homes are vulnerable and anything can happen anytime. 

She at times contemplated on making some junk jewellery and sell or atleast sell roses at the taffic signal but to have the twins in both her arms and managing her wares?

 Her bitter experience in the past would make her puke in horror. 

Brishti was their daughter and sold balloons in the traffic signal. 

With the sudden announcement of the Nationwide lockdown, Raghuveer 's natural instinct of the wide prophetic desert awakened. He sensed doom lurking above his family, his clan, his tribe, his brethern. 

He mustered courage and walked across to the tea stall. The owner was his namesake . 

Raghu, popularly called Raghu tatha (;grandfather) ; was an elderly man. He lost his wife a few years back. With no Incumbrances to fall back on, he started this tea stall in the garden front of his house facing the road. This engagement was his solace, his life and his reason to go on.... 

Raghuveer with folded arms begged Raghu tatha to give him a tiny space in his garden, so he may put up his refuge during the uncertainty and infection of the Virus. 

Life at times, rather most of the times surprises you from different ends, so it is neither a happy one nor a sad one. It is heartbroken! It is falling into a deep dark well of sorrow. 

Raghu tatha was hesitant but his sweet friendship with Brishti during scorching summer afternoon and rainy mornings when she would scoot for shade and shelter to his shop. 

With brown matted hair, a dirty colourful long skirt and blouse! A broad smile and colourful balloons, Brishti would run in like a little wind ball.. She would not pay attention that waiting customer's would pass snide remarks and also push and prod. When their sly moves did not work, those mean people would cry fowl , accusing the poor girl of stink , balloon attack and a possible theft. 

 

The next day while Raghuveer was pulling down his dilapidated tent and Rereebai was putting together the household meager effects, the twin infants crawled out onto the service road. Death seeks not permission and neither does it wait for an outburst. 

Two zooming bikes racing, smashed their heads and sped away! 

A wailing mother, a somber father and a lost and confused sister is what Raghu Tatha ushered into his cowshed, the puppeteer's refuge during the Lockdown days. 

 Reeeebai could not come to terms with life, the trauma arrested her desire to live.. In a month or two COVID 19 took her away. 

The puppeteer and his ensembles and accompaniments, his props and the handmade musical instruments, strips of yarn and cloth all strewn around the house! 

A gloom had decided that the puppeteer should now move on the other side. The curtains should fall! 

Brishti turned orphan and with no siblings, within 6 months. Her tribe too were root torn, clueless and scattered , atleast she could have joined their bandwagon. 

The Lockdown changed the colour of her life and her balloons. All that she recalls is body bags, blue suits moving in and out and ambulance siren screeching and fading away, carrying away her safe harbours forever. 

 

No time to weep! All life to sweep to keep up the keep! 

Rahgu Tatha did not forsake her or shoo her away from the cowshed but he also did not take up her wellbeing. She continued to sell balloons at the signal. 

 

The torrential rain and lightning made Brishti shudder. 

Memories bellowed inside her heart and wished to run back to the home under the bridge. She imagined her Ma, calling out to her. Rain drenched she wept, her balloons fluttering like wingless birds tied up for export. 

 The tea stall opposite was crowded. Raghu tatha observed the girl's helplessness. He asked her to tie up all the balloons on the pole and he increased the music of the radio.

 Raghu tatha said ‘ Brishti Ma, shall we make some hot spicy piyajis for a quick sale? 

 Brishti said ‘ Yes tatha, good idea but…  

Raghu tatha said ‘ but what Brishti Ma? ‘

Brishti ‘ Will you give me just 1 pakoda? But I have no money to pay! ‘

Raghu tatha in a caring voice replied ''Child… . You can have as much as you can!" 

The heavy rain pouring down made Brishti think of Insy Winsy spider! It slipped down but went up again.. Can she not go up to Ma and Papa and bhaiyas, when the rain stopped? 

 Customers gobbled down pipping hot, pakodas and tea! and hummed the retro songs playing in the radio.

Brishti assisted Raghu Tatha like a well trained cook. Cutting vegetables, frying the pakodas, asking for individual tastes.. The customers were pleased with her services. Some even tipped her for her effectiveness. 

 Raghu tatha was now very sure that Brishti was an amazing working partner. 

 The rain changed Raghu Tathas mind. The showers cleared his vision and outlook towards this Street child, an orphan, a child who has seen the myriads of sorrow in these small years. 

Above all he too was a rudderless broken boat sailing away slowly.. 

Why not embrace this divine arrangement and make life worth living for himself and more so for Brishti! 

Raghu 🐦.tatha decided to adopt this brilliant child, give her home schooling, start engaging in puppetry and also allow her to assist him to expand his tea shop.. 

Learnings 

 

Adoption

 

Reviving of an old form of art - puppetry. 

 

Caring for Street children

 

Education of girl child

 

Hands on education

 

Entrepreneur ship

 

Identifying opportunity