Hello friends, I am a broom and this is about me.. I am sure you
all know me but none of you would have ever had the time to think about me. I
lie somewhere neglected in your dark storerooms or maybe behind those damp
bathroom doors…. sometimes even carelessly lazying away in that space beneath
your staircase.
Early morning as you rush with your kid to his bus stop, you might
have missed me, working hard in the sweepers hand, raising clouds of dust as i
move by. But if you are amongst those who travel to school in posh
cars behind shielded glass windows, then you dont need to worry. My dust is
never going to bother you....and if you are amongst those who never get to go
to school........then ....well...I have managed to collect a treasure for you
in that dustbin near the crossing. Day long you shall rummage through that pile
looking for broken pieces of glass, copper wires and plastic bottles.
I know friends your lives have gone topsy turvy in last few
decades......internet, facebook,bigboss,quick to order pizzas,live in
relationships,speed dating, virtual marriages....who would have even thought of
these some 50 years ago! . Although at
a much slower pace, even my life has changed quite a bit.....Earlier i moved
like a king on the carpet of dry gulmohar leaves, which covered the lonely
footpath..Now its more polythene than leaves...A few leaves still rustle by as
I sweep but their voice gets drowned in maddening cacophony of traffic.
But who said I just clean.Ive more adventurous avatars too
...miles away from this city lets go to that sleepy little village where nobody
knows of speed dating and virtual marriages. In fact they are still living in
the era of “Honour killings”. Here you shall meet the “ojha baba”-the witch
doctor who claims to ward off diseases and spirits with one swoosh of broom.
Here I am more revered than any modern medical tool.
Not only witch docs……I am also an adornment of witches at least in
those fairy tales. The witches fly far and wide on these long broomsticks that
too sans any fuel!
Oh how fervidly mr Mallya wishes….he had a fleet of broomsticks
rather than a fleet of aircrafts. And
how fervidly I am wishing that glamorous air hostesses shall mount me rather
than ugly witches.
But apart from these fairy tales and legends, my life is all work
and no play. Nobody cares for me, nobody thinks of me. The housewife toils days long dusting and polishing each
corner of the house , but all in vain. No
credit comes her way. The manual scavenger who carries your shit on his
head still live confined in isolated slums meant for these “doms”. You loath
even interacting with them…The five year
old rag picker who runs doubled up under the load of his gunnybag….is not
groomed enough to mix with your kids. The crow that picks dead rats and lizards
from your garden is the dirtiest bird….They are all there , taken for granted
,always
So, it was important to tell my story …the humble broom’s story
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