Not just city, people too are beautiful

Chandni Lamba

What makes a city’s character? Its location? Its layout? Its weather? The restaurants? The clubs? Not really. It’s primarily the people. People comprise one part — heart, dealing with compassion and empathy and the other part — mind — which exercises the will and control. Somewhere between these too is courage and conviction. 

An incident in the city, that occurred many years ago, left such an indelible mark on my mind that I can recall it vividly even many years later. 

One morning, I was swinging away on the wooden gate, when our milkman arrived. Fascinated by the horn — a rubber bulb, which when pressed made strange sounds — and the huge metal drums hooked on either side of his cycle, I waited to watch him pour out milk into the pateela (vessel). My ayaa didi (nanny) haggled for the  jhoonga (small extra) that she made him pour, as if her survival depended on it. She actually did so to feed me more of my favourite drink!

As the milkman put the lid on his drums, I began a conversation — how many cows did he have to milk to fill the two drums? Did the cows not get angry? What about the calfs? Did they also drink milk twice a day like we did? What did he feed the cows? Did they like grass or was it because they missed a meal? And so on. 

I had not realised that I had walked with him to the end of the lane. He did ask me to go back home but I was busy chatting. I had almost turned the corner when I heard a shout, “Oye, kidhar jaa rahi hai?”. 

I recognised him as the ‘bhaiya’ who lived in our lane. I did not know him though his father used to visit mine. I was still mumbling an explanation when he caught my hand and walked me home. My mother was shocked. She thanked him as he explained how he spotted me chatting and walking away with the milkman. He felt responsible as he did not see anyone from the family with me. Everyone seemed to know everyone then.

Crime, as it is known, was unknown in the city then. It was not the fear of being kidnapped but of getting lost in case the milkman got busy or rode off. When I look back, if bhaiya had not brought me back, it is likely that the milkman would have! The incident stayed between the mother and daughter. We were scared of how my father would react. 

Next morning, the milkman told the ayaa that he was going to walk me back if bhaiya had not shown up! He delivered milk to our family for six years after that.  That was the charm and warmth of Chandigarh.