1 April 2011. Today everyone was an Indian. The stylish couple who wanted nothing to do with India or Indians waved the Indian flag high. The university intern who reeked of beer running up and down Gerrard Street waving the flag with one hand and directing traffic with the other remained Indian. The two young girls shouting, dancing, shrieking, and waving flags had recently migrated to Toronto; they were proud Indians too.
Chitra basked in the glory of the tricolor fluttering all around little India in Toronto. Gerrard Street, or the one mile portion of the street, had revellers packed in between cars, luxury cars, and streetcars. Most cars sported the Indian flags. Cars with sun-roof had people poking out wildly waving or the Indian flag. There were a couple of cars with the Sri Lankan flag. A teen wearing Dhoni's number jersey was running through the middle of the street wearing the flag like a cape. Chitra's husband, Arun, who climbed on top of a concrete tree casing to watch the fun, became a proud Indian.
The crowd stopped traffic both ways. The streetcar driver was not amused. Nor were the passengers inside. They may be late for their own parties. A couple at the end of the streetcar was smiling. Arun tried to guess their nationality. East European? After all these years of putting things and people into neat little boxes of culture, color and creed, Arun realized that he will never change his outlook. He slipped his hands into the thin jacket pocket. The fingers had begun to freeze. Maybe he should go down there and dance with Chitra and her two nieces.
People gave Chitra a wide berth. What she lost in height she made up going sideways. She stood in the middle of the road, clapped her hands above her head, shouted, “Jai Ho”, and turned round one way and then the other. Chitra's dance skills refused to move beyond those moves. Arun was not sure if she was dancing or just having a good time. But he knew that soon he would have to drag her away from the middle of the road with the two girls attached to her.
The crowd stopped traffic both ways. The streetcar driver was not amused. Nor were the passengers inside. They may be late for their own parties. A couple at the end of the streetcar was smiling. Arun tried to guess their nationality. East European? After all these years of putting things and people into neat little boxes of culture, color and creed, Arun realized that he will never change his outlook. He slipped his hands into the thin jacket pocket. The fingers had begun to freeze. Maybe he should go down there and dance with Chitra and her two nieces.
People gave Chitra a wide berth. What she lost in height she made up going sideways. She stood in the middle of the road, clapped her hands above her head, shouted, “Jai Ho”, and turned round one way and then the other. Chitra's dance skills refused to move beyond those moves. Arun was not sure if she was dancing or just having a good time. But he knew that soon he would have to drag her away from the middle of the road with the two girls attached to her.
No comments:
Post a Comment