It’s a late Saturday afternoon. Outside the Churchagate station, on the eastside. The ceaseless flow of humans, on a normal weekday, far more sparse. Still some time for the mellow winter Sun to set. And one could sniff love in the air. Never mind the cruelties all around. The raucous cacophony of hate and anger. The crass vandalism. The ever present threat of bloodshed. Tomorrow is the St. Valentine’s Day, nevertheless. Never mind if it is Love in the Time of Cholera! *Flowers bloom or not,* *It’s Springtime!* (Lines from a Bengali poem.)
It was 5 o’ clock to be precise, outside the Churchgate station. The appointed time for the CIP (Citizens’ Initiative for Peace) activists to gather. But only two of us are there. But by 5 10, it’s around ten. We still nervously wait for the banner to arrive. At around 5 15, a young woman, who had been standing a distance away, maybe for a while, shyly moves in, by now gaining enough confidence that this is right crowd. And pulls out the neatly folded white banner from out of the handbag she is carrying. The 20 ft long banner gets unfurled: *Whose Mumbai Is It? Those Who Build? Those Who Burn?* The same message in Marathi precedes the English version. Black against white. Some other women activists unfurl another: *Mumbai belongs to all!* In a number of languages, to capture the wide ranging demographic flavour of the city. Quite appropriately, in a number of colours. The passersby moving in and out of the station at a rather leisurely pace, so very different from the other days, pause and take time to have a look and appreciate. Then, in ones and twos, people come and join to hold the banners. Two pre-teen boys, breaking their journey midway, remain stuck with a banner despite gentle nudges from their restive mother. But the most heart warming was a couple with a small child visibly in rush joining in. They just come to the banner abruptly deviating from the route, touch the banner to register their solidarity, and resume the journey. Activists, by now around 25 or 30, get enthused. One or two start softly chanting: *Come and join hands!* The mantra doesn’t go in vain. Passersby do come and join hands. Some of them also click their cameras - multiple times, from different angles. While all this was going on, an IB man, at one end, keeps interrogating. And keeps scribbling notes. On and on. God knows what? Then another three come. Talk about the Sec. 144 being in place. Urge a quick wrap up. Still the show goes on. At 6 15, after one full hour of display, the two banners are folded up. It’d definitely be an exaggeration to claim: *People kept pouring in* *And the procession became endless. * (Log Aate Gaye Aur Karwan Banta Gaya.) But people, the real common people, did participate in good number of their own accord. And that’s most encouraging. Sukla -- Peace Is Doable -- You received this message because you are subscribed to the Google Groups "Green Youth Movement" group. To post to this group, send an email to [email protected]. To unsubscribe from this group, send email to [email protected]. For more options, visit this group at http://groups.google.com/group/greenyouth?hl=en-GB.
