Aastha Sheikh was the only 9-year old in her class never to
have seen Ellis Bridge. All her friends talked about the wonderful view from
atop their fathers’ shoulders, staring down in awe at the serpentine river
weaving its way through the heart of the city and up in amazement at the
wonderfully illuminated bridge. They would speak of families walking along the
pedestrian paths on the edges, laughing and smiling with kids on laps, kids on
shoulders and kids on their backs slurping on an ice-cream or struggling with a
fluffy candy floss. They would giggle and suddenly dive into hushed tones and
burst out laughing, reminiscing about young couples walking hand in hand,
engrossed in the view- some of each other and some of the manmade wonder above
the natural one. They would speak wide-eyed about the groups of friends cutting
birthday cakes on the famous bridge overlooking the Sabarmati and wistfully
hope that someday soon they would be able to convince their parents to give
them the same freedoms. Aastha listened mute to all these stories and true to
her name, believed that one day she would see this great miracle too.
.
As her father brought the vehicle around, Aastha’s face lit
up with an unadulterated joy that only a kid can show. She nearly jumped out of
the arms of her mother, who for some reason did not seem happy at all. Perhaps
she did not take too kindly to being woken up at 4 am in the morning but young
Aastha who had been put to sleep early last night, had no sleep and only hope
in her eyes as she finally managed to wrestle her way out of the reluctant arms
of her mother and made a beeline for the vehicle. Her father got out of the
driver’s seat and waited as Aastha’s little feet made the fifteen feet journey
an arduous one. He knelt down and with a smile greeted his only daughter and
then lifting her up in his arms stood up facing his wife. As Aastha looked at
the vehicle in awe- a vehicle which she knew her father drove but had never
seen, her parents carried out a hurried conversation in hushed tones. She realised
from the tone of her mother’s voice that she was not happy about something but
too happy to care about what, she let it slide away from her mind.
Minutes later, young Aastha could not believe that she was
in a car, at 4 am in the morning, wide awake and with permission. As she let
the cool October morning breeze hit her face and ruffle her hair , she felt
something she rarely felt – a feeling that she couldn’t quite define but a
feeling that had sporadically engulfed her when her father had taken her to
Sarkhej Roza the first time. It was only a few minutes from their house but the
sheer size of the lush green hills, the old and enticing remains of gates and
palaces and her father’s encouraging look telling her to run as much as she
wanted to made wave after wave of the feeling lash over her, making her feel as
if she was miles away from dirty little Sarkhej. She had ran about to her
heart’s content that day, her father barely managing to keep up. As they
climbed down the outer wall that evening Aastha peacefully sleeping on her
father’s shoulder, her arms wrapped around his neck and her drool all over his
shirt, her father knew that his daughter was not one to be tied down.
As memories of that wonderful day came flooding back into
her mind, Aastha looked towards her father driving the car and then back out at
the empty streets and flickering streetlamps casting temporary shadows on the
strays that looked up sleepily at the vehicle that rushed past . She suddenly
felt very brave and special, sure that none of her classmates had ever seen
Ahmedabad at 4am. As the vehicle took a turn and continued along a beautiful
road , Aastha saw to her amazement that on her side of the road there was no
longer buildings and concrete but instead a huge chasm , across which was
visible a skyline silhouetted against the early morning sky of Ahmedabad. At
the gradually lightening sky with a deft stroke of orange here and a slight
dash of yellow there against a canvas of a purplish-black shaped by fluffy and
bulbous silver-lined clouds stretching across the vast expanse, Aastha stared
and stared unable to contain her excitement on seeing a sky that changed colour
so quickly . Her father smiled as he changed the gear, perhaps for the first
time during this time of the day although every day at this time he had been
exactly here for the past 12 years. He looked at his watch and hoped that he
would be on time.
Five minutes later Aastha did not know where to look- at the
huge structure in front of her that stretched across the river below, the
reflection of which in the still waters presented a beautiful scene of
illumination against the dark reflection of sky , at the water itself, guarded
by high stepped walls on either side and protected by the many sentinels hung
over it at generous distances bridging the gap that it created or at her father
who escorted her down a flight of steps and lifted her atop a raised platform ,
smiled at her and urged her to stay put and did what any clueless 9-year old
would- sit and stare. She looked at his
retreating back up the flight of steps, knowing fully well where he was going-
back to the vehicle.
Aastha looked on in awe at the troika of a dark canvas
gradually sprouting lighter shades, with a sudden leak of reddish hues and
silhouetted skyline of a vibrant multi-cultural city still cloaked in the black
of the night, a still, silent, powerful, ever-moving serpent, weaving its way
across the city and the illuminated man-made engineering marvels slung across
the lifeline connecting the city and completing the canvas. She was so
engrossed in the scene that she almost missed what her father had brought her
there for. She would have missed it had it not been for her father waving
frantically from down below with a huge bucket in one hand and a broom in the
other, pointing excitedly at the skyline behind him and quite extraordinarly
following the line of vision of his outstretched broom Aastha saw a chrome ball
rising above the minarets,kalasas ,amalakas and highrises. As the Sun rose
above the city it gradually threw off the dark shroud the city had wrapped
itself in and the canvas changed from a purplish-black to a soothing light blue
bordered by white cumulonimbus. Aastha watched in wonder as the Sun illuminated
the city and the artificial illumination on Ellis Bridge paled in comparison.
Having cleaned the stretch designated to him, as he had done
for the past 12 years Ahmed Sheikh returned to where he had left his daughter.
Not seeing her there, he kept the bucket and broom there and ran down the steps
looking left and right as he covered two steps at a time. His heart racing,
thinking now about his wife’s reprimanding, Ahmed rushed along the river not
knowing where to look. He knew shouting was futile and huffing and puffing,
just about to collapse Ahmed, saw to his amazement a 9-year old girl running on
the platform above his head towards Ellis Bridge. Taken aback but still
thankful that he had spotted her, he rushed along trying to find the next
flight of stairs. By the time he found it, Aastha had reached the bridge.
Climbing two steps at a time and knowing full well that his body might collapse
any moment, Ahmed continued spurred on only by his love for his daughter.
Finally having caught up with her, he fell down to his knees, famished and ashen-faced,
his shirt soaking wet on an October morning and his face grimy already. He
looked up at his daughter who excitedly pointed to the reason why her father
had run so much. Still trying to gather breath, he looked up at a sight which
even in that state, he had to behold.
Through the caged structure that was Ellis Bridge, the sun
played hide-and-seek as it ascended the limitless sky, its light skidding off
the metal and disseminating into multiple rays in all directions. As he looked
on in wonder, the sun continued to rise up and while doing so, bathed the
bridge in a warm haze of October sunshine and as the sound of crows crowing and
dogs barking aggregated with the gradually increasing sounds of horns honking,
gears clunking and the occasional train whistle in the distance, Ahmed realised
why his daughter had run- to take in the true essence of an urban sunrise.
Aastha Sheikh was the only 28-year old among the competitors
to have seen the sun rise through Ellis Bridge. Being mute since birth, she
however could not tell anyone how beautiful it was but the daughter of the
municipal garbage collector remembered how she had run that day to watch the
scene in time. As she looked up at the track in front of her in New Delhi,
Aastha Sheikh knew what awaited her at the end of a hundred metres, just like
she knew that October day, 19 years ago. As the gun was fired and all the
athletes took off, Ahmed Sheikh, municipal garbage collector of Ahmedabad City,
standing in the stands knew that just like that day in October, 19 years ago,
Aastha had again left everything in her wake.
