By telling us your country of residence we are able to provide you with the most relevant travel insurance information.
Please note that not all content is translated or available to residents of all countries. Contact us for full details.
Shares
The entire market scintillated with lights. It seemed as if the sun never set here. The faces of the people were gleaming with vibrant energy and exuberance. The roads, albeit, jam-packed with cars honking incessantly didn't agitate me today. My claustrophobic self was also in vary of the congested small lanes. Everything was so hotchpotch and raucous yet it enlivened me. If anything, I was intolerant to, was the slight and inevitable pushes of the throng along with the malodour of their pump iron sweat. "We will speed up our pace" said Sheetal subtly intervening. "Yeah, but why?" I asked reluctantly. Sheetal always liked to pace things up. Be it keeping everyone on toes in group tasks or completing the assignment on the very same day it was apportioned. I was just hoping she doesn’t hurry me out of the market. "There's a stupendous kathputli (puppet) dance a few blocks away. If we kept going on snails’ pace, we would lose the best spots" exclaimed Sheetal in a grave voice. This nimble witted side of Sheetal left me awestruck. Before I could compliment, she grabbed my hand by my wrist and started pushing people aside with an impertinent, ’excuse me’ and dragged me along. My face anxiously making turns in all the directions couldn’t miss the expressions of the people she was leaving behind. I mouthed sorry which was as futile as a single chopstick! It was no sooner that my wrist escaped the clutches of her hands and she camouflaged with the horde. I got on a small rostrum beside a shop to look a few meters ahead but it was all in vain. My dead blower further impelled me not to leave my spot and wait for her to return. As I moved to the side so as to shun the aggression of the rabble, a little girl caught my eye. While the whole town was in euphoria, this tiddly lassie sat in a dim corner away from the sight of the world. I went a little closer only to find her deeply engrossed and absorbed into a doll she was,perhaps, knitting. Her luscious hair was tied in two tiny braids falling barely till her ears. I sat next to her as she coalesced the veil onto the doll. Her hand holding the needle moved swiftly and repeatedly, piercing the doll in just adequate proportion. What is your name? I asked. Heer. She replied in a meek voice. And the doll? I sceptically probed. Her big sparkling curious eyes looked at me then to my earrings and again to the doll. After a little while she shrugged and said, “I call it Romi but Ammi doesn’t like when I name my dolls. My job is to make dolls, not to get attached with them”. So you sell dolls for a living? I inquired. Abbu does. He is a kathputli master and sometime sells kathputlis to foreigners at a sky-high price”. She slyly sneered as she kept Romi aside and picked up the cotton from her jute bag and started filling it inside a pale pink cloth. I have been making these since I was 8, initially I used to hurt myself with the needle, and I still have those cuts. She flashed her hands in light for me to see and chuckled. It used to pain a lot but I never gave up. Now, I am one of the best artisans in the market. Abbu is very proud and his business is also flourishing. She picked up the already carved wooden head with features that of a lady from her bag and fixed it on the same cloth. Her hands, dabbed the floor, searching for the only needle she had. The town imbued with life – babies in cradle babbled, and shopkeepers coaxed the trippers in their top voice, and the crickets chirped as Heer meticulously weaved. Sheetal came all agog, “You missed the show, come let us leave now.” I looked at Heer and said, “It was all worth" and took out my earrings and gave it to her. A wide bewildered smile appeared on her face and she kept staring at them. We parted ways but her tender face, innocuous and tenacious demeanor is still alive in my heart.