LOST IN LOCKDOWN #4

THE WAITING

(Continuing a new series of jottings, remembering faces one thought was a part of one’s daily habitat, immediate neighbourhood. Never got to know anything about them or ever spoke to any of them. And now they’re nowhere to be seen.)

Many would remember her for sitting at the bus stop, looking at the road and then keep talking. Not to herself but the person she was waiting for, the person she would come to pick up or meet. Everyday without fail, she would be there with her hand bag and a water bottle. Initially, she would come from somewhere, some home of sorts. Gradually this became her home.

#lockdown #lostfaces #memories #neighbourhood #jottings

LOST IN LOCKDOWN #2:

THE VAISHNAV JAZZ SINGER

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(Continuing a new series of jottings, remembering faces one thought was a part of one’s daily habitat, immediate neighbourhood. Never got to know anything about them or ever spoke to any of them. And now they’re nowhere to be seen.)

LOST IN LOCKDOWN #2: THE VAISHNAV JAZZ SINGER

Very few would remember the old bhajan singer, old with black hair, leucoderma fair and a lovely voice. Petite but powerful, her gaze and her voice would earn her alms. Closely tied hair, she would walk in with her cymbals and her jhola and then she would sing. Of those who would give her a coin or a note, it would be a renumeration and not an alm.

#lostinlockdown #neighbourhood #drawing