Nested in the southern part of the Punyanagari(Pune) in the vicinity of Sahyadri ranges is a small place called Dhanakawadi where I grew up. It isn’t Deccan which is dotted by colleges one more historical than the other. It isn’t Sahakarnagar, the cultural capital of city. It’s a poor man’s land, a land where I grew up and for which I have respect immeasurable.
In some ways, it is the quintessential lower middle class locality where kids liked playing in the galli more than being hooked to gadgets which even adults fail to comprehend. Ladies discussed more about the rates of vegetables than the latest haircut in town. Coffee for 10 rupees is considered to be a luxury. Talk about Coffee Day!!..That was not for us..:) Yes, I am a proud son of Dhanakawadi, a place which I can call my own and I belong to it.:)
Today in every action of my life, I find Dhankawadi in myself. Even when I see all my friends listening to the hip hop songs in English, I prefer to be drained in the local hits. I still enjoy the local block blusters. To me, a night still starts at 11. I think twice before placing a tip at the table for a waiter. While the so called intellects explain secularism in terms which have confused the populace with the highest grey matter for us it was a way of life. New years were marked by a small celebration with friends. We knew whats money. We knew whats love. We knew whats care.
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