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They create nothing but

nauseain the stomach



stop exploring poverty



She continues to appeal to the society not to exploit poverty for art, politics etc.

August 2004Bangalore

53)  Puppy  on the TV

He has light grey bushy fur all over his body but white under belly.   A prominent white face, an inquisitive pair of eyes and dark snouts.   He may be around six weeks old.   Doesn’t bark or make any noise.   Quite a peaceful fellow.   They say giving him a bath will spoil his fur.   But he needs to be dusted with an air blower to keep him clean.   Seated on the top of our TV, he looks smart.

But how did he get there?   Well, I placed him there!   He is a stuffed puppy made by Mabel and presented to us early this year when we visited her at  RVS Compound, Sulur.   Mabel is good in making stuffed dolls.  She is developing this as her hobby.    

Thank you Mabel.

                      14 August 2004:   Bangalore.

54)   She  Rides  Her  Scooter  light

It is interesting to watch the girls riding their scooters to their offices and workplaces during the rush hours in the morning.   They all are of different age groups; young, middle-aged; old and even physically handicapped.   The last mentioned of them ride in their customised three wheelers in relative comfort but fast enough to beat the traffic.

One among them is Mahalakshmi (not her real name).    She is around twenty-one or twenty-two, fair, not too slim as young girls these days aspire to be, rather tall for a girl, firm limbs;  with determined look and sharp eyes.   She is always dressed in saris, no jeans or salwar-kameez.   Possibly she comes from an orthodox family of strict parents.    

She sits easy on the saddle as if she weighs nothing, upright in ram-rod position with her legs comfortably positioned to  reach the ground when she slows down or stops.   Her starched and well ironed sari of tasteful colour and design grips firmly around her narrow waist and the puloo pleated neatly in folds of six inches drawn around and tucked in the front like the Assamese women folk-dancers.   She doesn’t wear a helmet.  In Bangalore wearing of  helmet is not compulsory.   Her hair hangs down her back plaited from the lower half, the upper half loose but draped with a couple of strings of jasmine, blooming and fragrant.

What is more fascinating is the way she holds the handle bar with a light touch and her arms held exactly at right angles at her elbows, as though her machine was custom made for her anatomical

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