The Rama who lived at Connaught Place

 This year's famous Ramlila event at Delhi, read some newspaper article, will be streamed online on YouTube. Well, in this year when everything seems to have moved "online" and a breakaway from the "norm", why not embrace this new experience as well! Although whenever you say "Ramlila", it brings to my mind something I saw at Delhi a year back, in early November. That was Diwali time, and I was at Connaught Place, a.k.a. "CP".

I have never been in Delhi during Dusshera, when I would go back to my hometown for the Durga Puja celebration and leave the majesty of "Raavan Dahan" and Ramlila behind. Last year's "Diwali Mela" at CP somewhat made up for those lost experiences. I knew this is going to be my last year in Delhi. And I couldn't afford to miss the Diwali Mela. So I, along with a friend of mine, went to CP that night, hoping to gather something from the melange of food, music and lights.

If you would remember, last year's "Dilwalon ki Diwali" show at CP was much talked about and touted for its "laser-light shows", and other lavish arrangements put in place by the AAP government. Once we stepped into CP, it was a completely different world for us. It was not how you usually find CP to be. The shops were not open, the streets were not lined up with parked vehicles, and guess what, there were no vehicles on the road. It was all empty and all yours! You could dance around and do whatever you wished to, walking a long way along the collonaded complex of Georgian-style pillar columns! Most of the crowd was lined up on the other side of the road, waiting eagerly to enter into the well-lit performance ground. I wished not to. Walking on those empty roads was the most precious experience, ever!

Once I looked up, I could see the laser lights, the much touted ones. But hey, these lights were narrating a story! The story of Rama, the hero of the epic Ramayana--the epic story celebrating the victory of "good" over "evil". One could see the giant monkey Hanuman swinging his tail and the miracle of Ravana's palace burning! All in laser lights, and everything in gigantic proportions. In all of its imperfection and dazzling quality, it bemused and amused me. Certainly, this Ramlila in laser-lights at the heart of CP is one of its kind. Far, far away from the famed Ramlila maidan, and very different from the burning of the huge effigies of the demon kings.

While walking along the road, suddenly someone held my arm. I would rather say it was a nudge. I could see a small boy holding a clay figurine of Rama, with his brother and wife on either side and the monkey serving him at his feet. The boy visibly hailed from a poor economic background. His clothes were in tatters, and his face looked famished and tired. He kept pleading with me and my friend to buy that idol. We were refusing to buy it simply because we did not know what to do with it, and where to keep it. I thought it better to offer him the price of this figurine and leave us. After all, he was in need of the money; I didn't need to keep that idol with me.

But then something spoke in my mind against that. Our little friend kept poking me to buy that idol, and he refused to take only that amount. There was this strange sense of fear, or a premonition, that caught me. Maybe, I really needed that idol as much as he needed the money? I feared maybe my exams will go bad, or maybe I won't get into Cambridge for an MPhil ,if I didn't get this idol (what stupid thoughts come in a poor believer 's mind)!
So the next thing I did was to buy that idol of Rama. The boy went away, and got lost in the slowly emerging and melting crowd. I stood with that idol of Rama's family in my hands. This idol, a moment ago perceived as useless, suddenly bore a lot of meaning for me, as much as it did for that little boy.

That evening at CP had a lot to teach me and I had a lot to take back from that. There was a lot of food that we had that night-- right from tandoori breads, to malai kofta, and delicious koolfi. There was all of that, and much more! There was an element of sadness in that night full of lights and colours. Maybe that little boy was telling me everything I needed to know about those in Delhi for whom Diwali is not so bright and colorful? Maybe his tattered clothes was laying bare before me the realities of city life and its underbelly? I know not! But certainly, there was hope for a brighter future and a better tomorrow in the boy's glowing face. This hope kept him going. He might keep selling some more such idols of Rama, and earn a decent living for maybe a relatively over-sized family?

My friend is now at Oxford, several miles away from my place. But I am sure that she remembers that night as well as I do. The Rama who lived at CP is actually a small fragment of Delhi and its air for me to relive and breathe, back at Calcutta. Some time back, this idol got broken accidentally but luckily, I could fix it. Through the crevices and cracks now,I can perhaps catch a glimpse of that world in Delhi which I have left behind. There is a ray of hope that illuminates this figurine of Rama. Is it the same ray of hope I saw in that little boy's face? Maybe!