Stories behind faces

I have always been fascinated by stories, especially real life ones. As a child, I would spend my afternoons listening to my grandma narrate incidents of her childhood. She would share with me little details of her school, of how she feigned a stomach ache when she wanted to skip class, how her dad caught her once and other interesting snippets from her past. Oh the joy!

My love for real life stories grew as I grew in age. I would see people on the road and wonder, where are they coming from? Where are they going? Are they happy? Sad? What will they do after they get home? What will they eat for dinner today? Do they have a family they will share their meal with? Or will they eat in solitude? The questions run through my mind at the speed of light.

I’ve moved around quite a lot, and each time I move into a new rented house, I spend a few minutes looking at the walls and other remnants of the family that occupied the home before us. Sometimes I see a lone nail, sometimes I see tape marks. It makes me stand and stare. Did that nail carry a framed picture of a happy family? Had some kids put up posters of their favourite cartoons where the marks now stand? Did the walls witness their joys, their tears, their laughter? Who were the people who lived here? Where are they now?

One of the perks of living in India is that it gives me endless opportunity to observe people living different lives. I see couples going on a bike, with a child in their arms. I see people sweeping the streets. I see delivery guys, chatting on their cell phones as they hand you your stuff. I see people wearing ties, going to work in their air conditioned cars.  I see people in local trains, merrily chopping vegetables. I wonder, what style will they be cooked in? Will that be their dinner today? Are they leading such busy lives that they need to chop vegetables in a local train? I stand at the door of the train and I see houses passing by. I see clothes hung on the line in their balconies. Sometimes I can actually glance into their homes. I see women cooking in their kitchens. I see people chatting in their living rooms. And I wonder what their lives are about, what their stories are. What are their names? Who are they?

Many weeks ago, I was walking on the street by myself in the afternoon sun. There was a lot of construction work going on in the area. I saw two street kids swimming in the drainage, splashing around, laughing and having a jolly time. A closer look at the filthy water made me cringe. Clearly, the kids were having a good time and did not care about concepts like hygiene and sanitation. I pulled out my cell phone to take a picture. One of the kids waved out to me with a smile. I smiled and waved back. The moment they were done, they ran out, wanting to see the picture I had clicked.

“Aye, hamara photo liya didi ne, aa ke dekho”, he called out to the other kids, who ran towards us to see the picture. Their excitement passed on to me. Before I knew it, a group of kids were flocking around me. One of them held out his hand towards me, asking me to place my cell phone in his palm so that he could take a clearer look. I observed the mud in his nails, the sweat and dirt that caked his hands and I hesitated for a second, before feeling guilty the next. How could I deny a child the pleasure of holding my phone, just cos I was worried about the stains on my touch screen?  I was overcome by guilt because of the thought that crossed my mind.

The kids admired the picture for a while. Some of them asked me to click them. They stood posing in the middle of the debris. I asked each of them their name, where they lived, what they did all day, who their parents were, thus satisfying my urge of knowing their life stories.  Turns out most of the kids belonged to the construction workers that worked in the area. Other than loitering around on the street, the kids didn’t do much else. After spending a while with them, I turned towards them to say bye. That’s when one of them came up to me and asked me, “didi, yeh camera kitne mega pixel ka hai?” After which, he went on to ask me a couple of more questions that blew me over. When I asked him how he knew all this, he smiled and said “Mujhe sab pata hai”. I couldn’t help but return the smile.

He waves out with a smile