Of 'Aam Ke Ped' and cockroaches

Before I begin on the subject(s) I intend to write on during this blog post, I would like to make a very special announcement. Anyone who thinks Aishwarya Rai is not looking nice in the Bunty Aur Babli item number can, for all I care, go to hell. I have, after a lot of hard work, managed to convince myself that the movie was worth the time and money I spent on it solely because of Aishwarya Rai and her item number. It has taken a lot of hard work, and what I do not want is some stupid ass coming along and ruining all that hard work by saying that he/she thought Ms. Rai was actually looking fat and ugly in the song. Therefore, this moment onwards, I expressly forbid such opinions on my blog.

With that out of the way, let me move on to the 'Aam Ka Ped' (Mango Tree) I wish to talk about. There are lots of 'Aam Ke Ped' (Mango Trees) in AIIMS Campus, but the 'Aam Ka Ped' I shall talk about is the one situated right outside my house. The branches of this particular 'Aam Ka Ped' extend right up to my bedroom window, and have caused me a lot of trouble in the preceding few weeks. As most of you would probably know, the mango-season, at least in most of North India, is in full swing, as a result of which, the 'Aam Ka Ped' in question is almost always heavily laden with mangoes. These mangoes, though real mangoes, are not like traditional, sweet, the-ones-you-have-at-home mangoes. They're green and small, and are not usually eaten as they are. They are usually processed and are ingested only in the form of eatables like achaars, chutneys, and pana (a thick, sweet, mangoey liquid which is supposed to make one immune to hot winds). Another special thing about these green and small aams is that they fall down a lot from their trees. All it takes is a slight breeze for most of a tree's small, green mangoes to reach the brown, hard ground underneath the tree. Even when there is no breeze, aams keep falling down from their trees at regular intervals, and, as I recently found out, in times of extreme boredom, counting them as they fall is a good way to pass some time.

Another important characteristic of an 'Aam Ka Ped' is its natural ability to attract crowds. An 'Aam Ka Ped' is not truly an 'Aam Ka Ped' until it has about two score people solemnly assembled in its cool shade. I believe the phenomenon has its origin in ancient practices. A long time ago, when India was nothing but a large cluster of spacious villages; when two men wanted to meet, one of them would almost invariably say cordially to the other, "Woh Balli ke ghar ke pichhwade mein jo aam ka ped hain, uske neeche mil jaayenge." (We shall meet 'neath the mango tree behind Balli's house), Balli, in this case, undoubtedly being a third party known to both men, but otherwise quite unconcerned with this conversation. The other man, not one to cross his fellow villager without good reason, and not seeing anything objectionable with meeting under the mango tree behind Balli's house would, somewhat less eloquently, but equally cordially, reply "Achha.", the motive behind meeting under an 'Aam Ka Ped' probably being the fact that meeting under anything smaller, like a 'Kele Ka Ped', would be extremely taxing on the back due to the continuous stooping required, besides being extremely undignified, akin to meeting behind a bush, and meeting under anything bigger, like a 'Bargad Ka Ped', would be unsafe because of all the bhoots and dissatisfied aatmas lurking in such trees, and superstition being widely spread in backward villages of olden days.

The exact reason for men being found in close proximity to an 'Aam Ka Ped', whether it be an uncontrollable urge written into the very genetic code of us Indians due to years of continuous socializing under one, or simply a matter of greed for aams that accidentally fall down from the ped, will probably never be known accurately to me. What I do know accurately is the fact that every day, about three dozen people hold a get together of sorts under the mango tree near my house. I am woken up in the morning by whoops of joy from children who are under the tree at about 4:30 AM, looking for aams that have fallen down overnight. Then, during the course of the entire day, I am forced to hear opinions of all kinds of people on all kinds of subjects through my window. The crowd dwindles only at about 9:00 in the evening, and that too provided there is electricity in the campus, which, more often than not, is not the case. Some people go as far as to climb the tree (Halfway up, roughly at my window level, they realize their progress is being keenly followed by me. They then look sheepishly at me through the window, and having done so for an adequately long time, proceed to continue climbing shamelessly up the tree), although in the recent past, fewer people have been climbing trees, no doubt due to the incident involving one of the AIIMS postmen who climbed a mango tree in search of mangoes, fell down, and promptly died. Now, most of the climbing is done by the monkeys, and since AIIMS Campus happens to be amply endowed when it comes to monkeys, there is, even now, more climbing than there ought to be (the poor postman, God bless his soul, seems to have died in vain), and I am still woken up at 4:30 in the morning, for monkeys are much like children who like aams and climbing on trees.

Besides 'Aam Ke Ped' and monkeys, cockroaches, rats, mosquitoes, and other not-very-pleasant species are also found in abundance at AIIMS Campus. Presently, there are two cockroaches that are residing at my house. While most cockroaches, as is expected of their kind, stay at a given address for only a very limited time, ranging from a few minutes to a few days, these two cockroaches have been living at my place for a decidedly longer time now. I have a feeling that they are more than enjoying their stay here, and therefore do not seem in a great hurry to leave. One of the cockroaches is bigger than the other, and I call it 'Bada Cockroach'. The other one, which is smaller, has been named 'Chhota Cockroach'. Bada Cockroach lives in the bathroom and Chhota Cockroach lives in the small passageway just outside my room. I am not very fond of them, but I have, over a period of about a month, learnt to peacefully co-exist with them. We may not still be what is described as a happy and satisfied familial unit, but we get by.

In other news, I continue to be ecstatically happy about nothing. There are, I think, essentially, two types of people. The first category is made up of people who, when they are happy, express their happiness by singing loudly, laughing, and jumping up and down. The second category is mad up of people who, when happy, go about being nice to dogs. I belong to the first category, as a result of which my parents continue to think I am on drugs.

Also, it's getting terribly hot and humid in Delhi. Life without an air-conditioner has become difficult, and venturing out of the house during the day has become almost impossible. I am, therefore spending much time indoors. I have been reading a lot. And I have been listening to a lot of music. These days, music plays in my room round the clock. I sleep with music on. I wake up with music on. I read with music on. I eat with music on, and I do pretty much everything else in between with music on. Therefore, in addition to thinking I am on drugs, my parents also think I will go totally deaf before the end of these holidays.

In addition to books and music, I have also been spending a lot of time watching home videos. There are lots of them lying around the house, and a lot of them have a much younger me in them. On watching them, I have come to the conclusion that I was quite an awesome guy when I was about two. But then at about four, I started getting weird and creepy, and by the time I was nine, I
1) Looked mentally ill.
2) Had the weirdest hair.
3) Wore purple pants.
4) Was terribly fat.

I think I was pretty much at my worst in life when I was nine. After that, I started recovering a bit, although most people who know me since then would say that I never really recovered much. Nevertheless, I feel I am definitely better now than I was at nine. And at the current rate of improvement, I think I should be almost as cool as I was at two by the time I am about seventy. I just hope I am around till then.