#19

Everybody at the resort admired Mr.Daniel. Having worked in many resorts across the country, he currently works at Goa. "I love Goa more than any other place, I've decided to stay here.", he told me. His workplace is at the entrance of the resort, he always sticks around there, either standing by the side or sitting on the stairs. I loved his job for the simplicity of its description, the objective was to put a smile on the customer's face. Mr. Daniel seemed to love his job, he was a natural.

"Welcome to your resort..na na na na. Have a good holiday.." <smiles>, he sung, every time a new holidaymaker arrived. Everyone greeted him with a smile, he smiled back and removed his hat. He knew a handful of popular Hindi songs and jingles for the kids. Sometimes, people gathered around him to listen to him at the entrance. He played on the guitar and a mouth organ fitted to it, whilst singing. He sang in perfect harmony with his instruments, he kept to the simple songs.

Our trip had drawn to a close. As we walked into the reception before checking out of the hotel, I noticed Mr.Daniel at his usual place by the stairs at the entrance, smiling as always. He was playing a mellifluous piece on his mouth organ.
"Hello! I like your music. Can I take a picture with you?", I waked up to him and asked. He approved gladly in response. 

We were having a conversation as my father was settling bills. The man was pleasantly surprised to know I learn music. He had worked in many resorts previously, he had mentioned. He knew many languages, each to an extent that wouldn't make him a lawyer but would help him get his bread or converse with the neighbour. "I know few songs in Tamil. I learnt them when I worked at Kodaikanal. Do you know songs from the movie Saamy?" He asked me and hummed the tune of a song.

I knew the kuthu song from the movie that wouldn't be soothing to the arriving holidaymaker's ears. Some prefer to let the holiday mood grow on them, not pound themselves right away. A few people gathered around as we begun. What followed was a funny rendition of a kuthu song, like it was a romantic song, with the guitars and the organs. The 'lady with the white bag' probably thought it was the toughest song to sing ever, she looked amused when she asked me how I managed to sing in a single breath. I hadn't, but I decided to savour the moment.
Mr.Daniel realised he knew another popular song, Poovukul olindirukkum from the movie Jeans. I didn't know the song very well, we decided to hum the tune and went "na na na..na na na".
The 'lady with the white bag', along with her family was all set to leave the resort, her taxi had just arrived. She waved at goodbye at Mr.Daniel and the kids helped her put her bags in the taxi.

The taxi drivers of the resort were a union, there was no room for bargain and it wasn't easy to argue with them either, there is always the fear when you are away from home. As Mr.Daniel and I continued, a few unpleasant exchanges were heard, we stopped and watched. A fight had cropped up between the 'lady with the white bag' and the taxi driver. He was against including an extra passenger in his car. The smiles that Mr. Daniel had put turned into angry glowers and the situation got out of control at the entrance. More people watched but none dared to intervene, they were a union. The lady's husband took to the driver and held him by his shirt as he uttered even more impolite words. Both of them were at fault by then. The driver was the opposite of what Mr. Daniel was, he put on a hostile demeanor and was a traveller's horror. The lady's husband shouted the cliched "Do you know who you are talking to? Don't you dare raise your voice against me!" The words had disturbed the sleeping dogs in the driver, he showed even more of his ugly side.

The fight grew. Mr Daniel looked at me and said with a smile, "Ah.. do you see? That is a clash of egos right there. The man wants to show his power and the driver isn't going to accept his fault. This is going to last longer, let's continue.. na na na..na na na", he continued even as the fight lasted. The people present at the scene had the privilege of listening to a very unique combination of impolite words and the soothing tune of an A R Rahman song.
The taxi driver unloaded the bags and left a few minutes later. The fight ended and we got onto our taxi as I waved goodbye to Mr.Daniel. Another family had arrived by then.
"Welcome to your resort..na na na na. Have a good holiday..", Mr.Daniel carried on.

The Sunday Dilemma

It was a hot Sunday and the crowd at the juice shop only kept increasing. The men found it hard to serve at the rate of arriving customers. They had run out of glasses, leaving many frustrated under the blazing sun. The relentless honking in the background wasn't pleasing to the ears. The traffic signal and the policemen were on a break. The sight showed the best of how bad the traffic could get in the city.
I had a good look at the state of things before I decided to give in to my thirst and buy a glass of orange juice. Earlier that day, I was contemplating over weighing options in life and here was a chance to apply it in real life. I expected the juice to compensate for the displeasure of waiting for it. I ordered and looked around whilst waiting.
Two women, one, an old lady and the other, the mother of a toddler sat on the pavement right opposite the juice shop. They looked like tramps. The women implored every person that arrived at the juice shop for money. The woman with the toddler asked me.

They rekindled a question I've never found a convincing answer to. "Is it right to accede to a beggar's request?". On one side, giving money would mean encouraging them to continue doing the same and not try to make a living by working. On the other side, it would be inhumane to ignore a beggar who looks in dire need of what the she/he is asking for. All of us have encountered mild cases of hunger and we can guess the pain. What if the beggar's claim of not having had a meal in days is true?
Here was my second opportunity to weigh options and act. I liked weighing options, it helped me get rid of the temporary low moments of indecision but it didn't really resolve the conflict of interests.
As I weighed options, I looked at the baby. The baby had a shaven head with boils all over it. The baby was chewing a sheet of paper lying by the road and the mother didn't seem to bother. It clearly seemed only humanitarian to give them alms.
But, it was the sight of the baby that disturbed me most. Money wasn't the way to help the baby, I decided to get a bottle of juice for the baby. It seemed more apt.

At the juice shop, juice is served in glasses. I felt unsure about returning the glass after giving it to the baby. There was a supermarket three buildings away where I could get bottled juices. I quickly finished my glass of orange juice and concluded that it did not compensate for the displeasure of waiting for it. Weighing options meant choosing to be safe, or more aptly, trying the luck, I realised.

As I finished my juice, the woman got up, along with the baby on her shoulders started walking from the juice shop. I quickly walked past them and into the supermarket. I decided I would give them the bottle of juice even if they had walked past the shop. I picked a bottle of mango juice and stood in queue at the billing counter. I was only the next, but the cash tray wouldn't open and the lady before me stood waiting. I don't think Murphy's law works better in anyone else's life. Everything seems to fall in place from his perspective. Billing the bottle of juice took more time than waiting for the juice at the juice shop. I walked out of the supermarket and the woman with the baby was nowhere in vicinity. I paced through the street, much in vain. The woman and the baby had gone. It was one of those days for me, when everything went wrong. The idea of weighing options wasn't working for me on its very first day.

The old woman didn't leave, yet, though. I walked back to the juice shop and she sat in the same position, constantly asking its customers for charity (?). I offered her the bottle of juice and she took it with not much show of any emotion. I walked away immediately and watched her from the other side of the road. Watching the woman drink the juice would have been a mollifying feeling for me. I kept an eye on the woman as she pulled a gunny bang from beneath the pavement. She put the bottle of juice in the bag and continued pleading for alms.

I realised the bottle of juice made not much difference. The woman stored it in her bag and was probably going to sell it elsewhere.

If she was in such a bad state, wouldn't she drink the juice? Was the toddler a tool to deceive people such as me? Questions arose. 

Is it right to accede to a beggar's request on humanitarian grounds or not do so to let them realize they could work to make a living? I still don't know. I'm going to stick to weighing options then and there for now.