‘Impoverished’

She looks on, bearing the puzzled expressions on her face, which has probably now become a permanent fixture. She is no mistress of riches but yet, the weathered pram that she tows carries her most prized jewel. A jewel that I soon find out is third in its generation. The other two jewels soon arrive on the seen. If there are degrees of confusion, the two wear much less confusion on the face, but more importantly they are not entirely devoid of it. I cannot blame them. India can surprise you for a lifetime irrespective of whether you are a foreigner or not.

Her clothes, glaringly of Indian style that no one in Mumbai wears these days, are soiled. The jewels are soiled, as if freshly mined. They wonder if their mother has enough money to buy them Mewar Ice-cream. One of the jewels, girls both, makes her wish of having an ice-cream cone known to her mum. The mother disregards the wish and continues to stare into space as if unconfident about the potential of her wallet. I continue to munch on my ice-cream insensitively.

The mother asks the jewels, ‘What is that? What’s that man selling?’
‘It looks like ice-cream mama.’ they reply with anticipation.

All of them then proceed to sit on the side walk which is dirty enough to form the collective throne of the countless beggars who have suddenly found an excuse to vanish somewhere. I try to infer the country of origin form the accent of the mother. It seems to be a European accent. I wonder how long they have spent in India, which other countries have they been to before this, have they always been in short supply of money and who might be the father of the dusky jewels, who sport mixed Indo-European features.

I wonder what other cultures have they come across before? I wonder if they are enriched by the experiences or only gradually robbed of their own culture. I wonder, while they look about with puzzled eyes, what life makes of people who are not only economically poor, but also have a confused cultural identity. I wonder how life treats people who are impoverished not only economically but also, culturally.

As these thoughts rush into my mind, they keep looking about as if in search of something elusive. I, having finished my ice-cream walk on, back to Ship. It’s time to sleep.