When I newly moved into the house here, I was somewhat troubled by the sounds of a mechanical horn doing poi poi every few minutes, as though it was a maze that I was in and a sound would be trying to tease me. In a few days I figured out that all the people who vend something in villages, except for women who sell their green leafy vegetables (tamre bhaaji, which is nothing but chaulai saag of the north. Upon sudden inspiration, I will write a separate post about it!), carrying it in baskets on their heads.
So all vendors which would include pav-walas (bread sellers), to fishmongers who are regular/daily visitors to village communities carry this little contraption- and the whole day from one or another corner you can hear the poi-poi sound. Anyhow, this post is about the pavwala, who comes in the morning to my doorstep- his name is Francis.
I am quite fond of Francis, because his inner discipline, his regularity and punctuality is so amazing, that I am a fan of him. When I decided to write a blog post about him, I thought the correct thing was to take his permission first, so that I would have some pictures. He was happy to hear about it, and immediately said yes. So in a day or two, I got the camera in place and decided to go ahead. Now you can pretty much imagine my madness, that in my house-coat and eyes still newly awoken from slumber, if I can be standing awaiting the bread man, just to take his pictures at before seven in the morning.
My morning routine is thus- I wake up somewhere around 6-6:30 and then pick up a plastic bowl to get the pav-s in, which Francis will deposit in the bowl, and then I open the doors to the outside and slide back into bed, for the last few languorous moments, to have the joy of listening to bird songs, while still experiencing the coolness of the morning, still in bed. Then the poi-poi sound comes and I know he has come and I take my wallet and my plastic container and depending upon the requirement for the day, which varies between three and ten pav, I just take them.
Few days back me and Andre were talking about Francis and he said, that look Francis must be sleeping for a long time right now…for we were talking around 11pm, at night. So next morning I decided to ask him at what time he went to bed, imagining he must be doing that around eight or nine o’clock. He said something so astonishing, that I have to put it down in his words only.
He said, “I do not really get much sleep.”!!!
I was surprised to hear that, for how could that be possible, for he looked so well rested and strong. And surely riding the cycle so much all around the village cannot but make someone strong. But anyhow, when I heard his routine, I felt a bit strange-
“I get up at around 5, in the morning and 5:30 I am out with the pav-s, after brushing my teeth etc. After that I sell pav-s till 7:30-8 and reach the bakery back and am off to sleep for a little while. Then at 10 I have to put the fresh logs in, for the next lot of pav-s that would go into the oven. Then I rest again and again I have to get them out later, for the evening. In the evening, I go for a second round (I have also encountered him many a time, while walking my dogs at that time) and I am back to the bakery by 6pm. Then again I clean up the oven, and then eat and sleep around ten, but i have to get up again at 12 and then 2 to tend to the fire.
At 2am!! Oh…so really what a fool’s imagination we people have about imaginary- idyllic lives of pav-walas. However, hearing this description, my estimation of him has only increased further, for though he is perpetually sleep deprived and tired, I never see that on his face, and my day starts always with greeting him a good morning.
How these simple, honest, hardworking people make our lives flow with their little contributions, despite all that they go through. I am always indebted to them.
at home in the country 