I
They said the dust would settle.
II
They came and went away. Away for a few days, weeks, and then years. The chairs and tables and plants watched them pass by.
III
Dust always meant one could see the sun rays. The dust always sparkled in the rays coming through the windows. In the chiaroscuro that the shade and the light made, one could see there was dust. That the cleaning was never astute enough. Enough to remove the dust.
Sarita Didi had a shoddy hand at cleaning. On the window pane, the ledge of the wall, one could even feel the dust.
But the dust that sparkled, one could never touch it. You could always see it when Sarita Didi swept the floors. You could look at the unsettled dust then, in the sunlight, sparkling in all its glory.
IV
We would go away each summer to the hills. We would avoid the Delhi heat. We would avoid the Delhi dust we would say. The hills would offer us that much needed respite from dust. We would sit under large oak trees, and ruminate. How do they live, people living next to factories – what kind of life has modernity gotten us – did you watch that film, too – they have specific castes for cleaning work – the horror – I have never asked Sarita’s caste – it does not matter in our household who cleans – for all we know, she could be a savarna stuck in the tragedy of life – we would live in the hills if we could.
We would discuss and pick up fallen corns of pine. We would clean them before packing them in our backpacks. God knows what animals have defecated around! We would come back home. We would keep the backpacks separate from our inner household. God knows what dirt the bags bring!! Dust is always better than dirt. We should wash all the clothes – give the bunch to a dry cleaner. At least, we are familiar with the dust in Delhi – you never know what dirt hills might bring. After all, the hills are different – you know, the people are so welcoming, but they eat primates. Remember that skinned yak hanging from the ceiling – I need to thoroughly freshen myself up.
Clean the shelf-tops with liquid cleansers. Place the pine-corns next to curated books. Wash it with mild soap before you put it there – the natural glaze would fade in harsh detergent.
V
Cleanse yourself. Align your inner chakra with your outer spirit. Change the vibe of a room by your inner peace. Cleanse. Cleanse. Cleanse. Cleansing milk. Cleansing postures. Cleansing therapy. Body cleansing. Mind cleansing. Ethnic cleansing.
Cleansing. Purging. Catharsis. Catharsis is essential for maintaining democracy in a polis. Otherwise the people go mad. We needed poetry for that well-intended cathartic effect.
VI
The sponge-iron factories in Jhargram had made the leaves go black. The villagers reported there was fly-ash all over the air. That, they could not breathe. The dust was so stickily thick one could scrape it with a finger. It was a chemical hub which was envisioned in the adjacent Nandigram. Special Economic Zones. Special Economy for Special People. Special architecture. Special plants which do not catch dust. There would be so many jobs now, you would not be starving anymore. But how do we live in this air? See, you are seeing it wrong – it is not dust, it’s muck. In this humidity, you cannot have dust in the air I tell you, it would settle.
VII
In the factories in Kapashera, women bathe in the middle of their allotted ten-by-ten rooms. Oh, is this because of the dust outside – that’s smart if they have an open bath. Women workers who worked in the heat and dust whole day would come back and not compete with the men in their households for a share of the water-tap. Women workers who worked in the heat and dust whole day would be shy to bathe in the open in front of the men standing in the bathing queue. After the bath they would sleep on the wet floor, their children on the folding bed.
Women need to understand that this is all a social construct. They have equal rights to that water-tap just like the men. Six hundred families. Six hundred rooms. One water-tap per row of barracks.
VIII
It would
settle the dust.
