(This article was written for my company, which had its founding day recently. This article was a huge hit with my folks, hope it is with you too.)
The Headline is misleading actually, it’s not just another day.
Today is our founding day.
As I was risking my life on the roads of the city, fearing of getting late, some pretty eyed girls in saris were preparing for our welcome (in retrospect the fear of getting late was inconsequential. This is positively the last time I risk my life on the road.)
As I entered the office, the best girls around here stood for our welcome with roses (pretty romantic actually!) and Cadbury’s Perk (the staple food of my company) and offered us with such a broad smile that you were tempted to count their teeth.
Jokes apart, I could see people were preparing themselves for this day. The Gents look absolutely stunning in formals and neckties. The Ladies look beautiful and elegant, their beauty enhanced by the good old Sari.
I looked at myself. I made a sorry picture of being unshaven and without a belt (don’t blame me for the belt, got lost amongst my heap of clothes, which in turn led me to become late, which in turn did not let me shave). I at least came in formals. That was a saving grace for me.
We have a lot of work to do, but it looks as if we are attending a marriage ceremony today. I personally feel like enjoying and doing nothing today, but still I open my P.C and pretend that I am working. I nudged a few colleagues and churned the truth out of them. They too were feeling like me, not willing to work and bask in the festive atmosphere. So I concluded, with some sense of accuracy, that people were blindly clicking on the computer wishing to do absolutely nothing.
And as I continue to look around me, all smart guys and beautiful girls are still pretending to work, so I start my work too and end this article here.
So much in a days work.
Debayan
Sunday, November 19, 2006
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
Hip Hip Hurray !!
Yes. Finally I have crossed the 100 mark of the persons who have visited my profile. Thanks to them......
Regards
Regards
Sunday, October 22, 2006
A visit to the Marketplace after a long time
After a long time, and I mean a very long time, I visited the market place. If my memory served me right I was going to that particular market after ten long years, at the least i.e.
After my Mom hassled my continuously for an hour, I finally gave up and reluctantly agreed to go, cursing dad for not being here at the hour of need.
It must be understood that 22 year olds’ of today have almost a genetic revulsion of going to the market place. Maybe that’s because of their lack of knowledge of picking good vegetables (it should be green, a little hard…….etc etc..). But in addition to that you definitely don’t want to bump into your friends and let them find out that you are in the market place buying vegetables like a married husband.
I then calculated the probabilities of bumping into any acquaintance while I would be at the market place. I figured, as it was Diwali holidays, most people whom I knew were on vacation. So the probabilities of meeting your acquaintances were closer to zero than to one. So I hopped into the auto rickshaw and started my journey to the market place wishing it to end sooner rather than later.
The moment I landed into that same old place where I had not gone for over ten years, something odd happened.
A wave of nostalgia hit me. I could not help but compare the present scenario of the market place to the one ten years ago. Now the place had gotten smaller, more dense than before. I could also see advertising banners every hundred feet or so, competing for the highest elevation possible. The place was choking and I started coughing, maybe due to the level of pollution or maybe due to some allergy.
It was as crowded or maybe more as it was ten years ago, but you could tell the difference.
Back then, you could find the good old Bajaj Chetak’s , Vespas and Rajdoots too, scooting away in all its glory in between the congested roads. Now you find Pulsars, Enfields and even four wheelers plying on the same road, which over the years had reduced in width and had not gotten wider !
People used to bargain then too. But that was with, what I would call, a ‘gentle ferocity’, you bargained alright, but you tried to coax and cajole him or her into your grip. But now all I see is bland insults and abuses hurled at the vendors. The element of humanity had gone down drastically in the last ten years. It looked more like an army of robots programmed for certain actions conjesting the market place. Back then even complete strangers used to talk endlessly at front of a vegetable vendor. But now nobody had the time or inclination to get into any conversations.
But amongst all these depressing factors, you still can find some fun. I found to my surprise that a nice young lady in capris and a sexy top jostling amongst the vegetable market. It was obvious that she too had come to the market against her wishes. What I observed was quite remarkable actually, not unexpected totally, but anyways it shocked me. That pretty young thing was inspecting a bunch of tomatoes bending downwards. I was wondering whether the vegetable was looking at the 100 Rupee note or looking down her neck. If I had been him the latter would seem a more interesting proposition.
Although some things will never change but I somehow had a soft corner for the old world charms of the market place which spoke of bygone years.
Some things you wish should never change.
You can just wish. That’s all you can do.
After my Mom hassled my continuously for an hour, I finally gave up and reluctantly agreed to go, cursing dad for not being here at the hour of need.
It must be understood that 22 year olds’ of today have almost a genetic revulsion of going to the market place. Maybe that’s because of their lack of knowledge of picking good vegetables (it should be green, a little hard…….etc etc..). But in addition to that you definitely don’t want to bump into your friends and let them find out that you are in the market place buying vegetables like a married husband.
I then calculated the probabilities of bumping into any acquaintance while I would be at the market place. I figured, as it was Diwali holidays, most people whom I knew were on vacation. So the probabilities of meeting your acquaintances were closer to zero than to one. So I hopped into the auto rickshaw and started my journey to the market place wishing it to end sooner rather than later.
The moment I landed into that same old place where I had not gone for over ten years, something odd happened.
A wave of nostalgia hit me. I could not help but compare the present scenario of the market place to the one ten years ago. Now the place had gotten smaller, more dense than before. I could also see advertising banners every hundred feet or so, competing for the highest elevation possible. The place was choking and I started coughing, maybe due to the level of pollution or maybe due to some allergy.
It was as crowded or maybe more as it was ten years ago, but you could tell the difference.
Back then, you could find the good old Bajaj Chetak’s , Vespas and Rajdoots too, scooting away in all its glory in between the congested roads. Now you find Pulsars, Enfields and even four wheelers plying on the same road, which over the years had reduced in width and had not gotten wider !
People used to bargain then too. But that was with, what I would call, a ‘gentle ferocity’, you bargained alright, but you tried to coax and cajole him or her into your grip. But now all I see is bland insults and abuses hurled at the vendors. The element of humanity had gone down drastically in the last ten years. It looked more like an army of robots programmed for certain actions conjesting the market place. Back then even complete strangers used to talk endlessly at front of a vegetable vendor. But now nobody had the time or inclination to get into any conversations.
But amongst all these depressing factors, you still can find some fun. I found to my surprise that a nice young lady in capris and a sexy top jostling amongst the vegetable market. It was obvious that she too had come to the market against her wishes. What I observed was quite remarkable actually, not unexpected totally, but anyways it shocked me. That pretty young thing was inspecting a bunch of tomatoes bending downwards. I was wondering whether the vegetable was looking at the 100 Rupee note or looking down her neck. If I had been him the latter would seem a more interesting proposition.
Although some things will never change but I somehow had a soft corner for the old world charms of the market place which spoke of bygone years.
Some things you wish should never change.
You can just wish. That’s all you can do.
Sunday, August 20, 2006
Long Walk to Freedom.
15th August, 2006. As India entered into its 60th year of freedom, I found myself standing behind a two year old girl, her little fingers inside her mouth and staring at the big grey platform down below.
She was calculating in her little head, whether she would actually have to risk falling down from the train or whether she could safely alight. And as I had expected, it was a little too much for her little head to calculate, as her little fingers went from her mouth to scratching her head.
It would have been around sixty seconds since I had been standing behind that one and a half feet grown girl. The line behind me was expectedly getting a bit impatient, numb to the agony of the little girl ahead of me. Just as I thought that I personally would have to help her get down, her mother came, much to the delight of others behind me, and helped her off the train.
Now that the girl was safely on the platform, her small little eyes, with big pupils went straight to her mom. She was hoping that her mom would lift her up and would save her from the agony of walking the length of the platform in the early morning. Her mom who was busy with her dad counting the bags, unfortunately wasn’t paying any attention. She tried to pull her dress too, but to no avail.
To her utter disappointment her mother only stretched out her hands, meaning that she would have to walk, with only her mothers fingers for guidance. She reluctantly took her right hand and began to walk.
Her small, little, foggy brain, just being deprived of good sleep, was thinking how could she have been put to such a huge task, which demanded extreme physical labour. She was also wondering where had all the sympathy gone, which comes for granted when you are barely able to reach you mothers’ toes!
As her foggy brain was still trying to come to terms with the disgrace and utter coldness of the outside world, around came a staircase. Now again she looked up to her mom, with the same little eyes and the same big pupils, which had constricted themselves even further. She now was pretty confident that her torture had come to an end and surely she will not climb the staircase on her own.
But her hopes were brutally dashed.
Her mother, with her outstretched hands, literally lifted her first, and put her over the first tread of the staircase. Now the little foggy brained girl with big eyes and big pupils was desperately clinging to her mothers’ fingers, trying to keep up with her mothers' pace as she briskly ascended the staircase. The foggy brained girl was still trying to come to terms with the rude shock. She was praying that this agony would end, if not for her then at least for the sake of her new dress, which she was sure would tear to pieces.
She was pretty confident that her small legs were at an unnatural angle while she was climbing the staircase. She momentarily thought that if she made through this she would surely become a gymnast one day, with the amount of stretching she was having to do.
I sat on my auto and it was time for me to leave.
The last time I saw that foggy brained girl, she was still walking.
Just the first of her many long walks to freedom.
Happy Independence Day.
She was calculating in her little head, whether she would actually have to risk falling down from the train or whether she could safely alight. And as I had expected, it was a little too much for her little head to calculate, as her little fingers went from her mouth to scratching her head.
It would have been around sixty seconds since I had been standing behind that one and a half feet grown girl. The line behind me was expectedly getting a bit impatient, numb to the agony of the little girl ahead of me. Just as I thought that I personally would have to help her get down, her mother came, much to the delight of others behind me, and helped her off the train.
Now that the girl was safely on the platform, her small little eyes, with big pupils went straight to her mom. She was hoping that her mom would lift her up and would save her from the agony of walking the length of the platform in the early morning. Her mom who was busy with her dad counting the bags, unfortunately wasn’t paying any attention. She tried to pull her dress too, but to no avail.
To her utter disappointment her mother only stretched out her hands, meaning that she would have to walk, with only her mothers fingers for guidance. She reluctantly took her right hand and began to walk.
Her small, little, foggy brain, just being deprived of good sleep, was thinking how could she have been put to such a huge task, which demanded extreme physical labour. She was also wondering where had all the sympathy gone, which comes for granted when you are barely able to reach you mothers’ toes!
As her foggy brain was still trying to come to terms with the disgrace and utter coldness of the outside world, around came a staircase. Now again she looked up to her mom, with the same little eyes and the same big pupils, which had constricted themselves even further. She now was pretty confident that her torture had come to an end and surely she will not climb the staircase on her own.
But her hopes were brutally dashed.
Her mother, with her outstretched hands, literally lifted her first, and put her over the first tread of the staircase. Now the little foggy brained girl with big eyes and big pupils was desperately clinging to her mothers’ fingers, trying to keep up with her mothers' pace as she briskly ascended the staircase. The foggy brained girl was still trying to come to terms with the rude shock. She was praying that this agony would end, if not for her then at least for the sake of her new dress, which she was sure would tear to pieces.
She was pretty confident that her small legs were at an unnatural angle while she was climbing the staircase. She momentarily thought that if she made through this she would surely become a gymnast one day, with the amount of stretching she was having to do.
I sat on my auto and it was time for me to leave.
The last time I saw that foggy brained girl, she was still walking.
Just the first of her many long walks to freedom.
Happy Independence Day.
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
The smell of Phenyl
Before you think it is a hugely abstract article, I suggest you better stay with me till the end.
Yes, I am alive and well. Since the day I started working, I feel this is the first public holiday that I have encountered. Rest assured that I may NOT be able to find time in the future soon.
Well so much for me and my blogging.
Poetry and Prose alike, a lot of people have written on smell. Rudimentary stuff like smell of flowers to highly sensual stuff like the smell (or scent !) of a woman. A lot of writing on smell exists around the world.
Well today is 'Raksha Bandhan', a very important festival in our country. People get up in the morning, have a bath to get squeaky clean and then dress their best for the occasion. Girls in bright yellow to deep red and guys mostly in White Kurtas and their other colors are either blue or black.....
And here I was, 9:30 a.m, at my place, just out of bed in my residence. My hair style loosely resembled that of Einstein, hair standing on its ends, giving me a look as if I had just been electrocuted. Well, there I stood along with my pathetic looks and my toothbrush in my mouth and stared down at the basin. Here is what I saw..
Normally one would expect water to be clogged in the basin. But along with that there were other assorted items like chillies, capsicum, cabbage. On close inspection I could also find some cough and sputum floating around the already clogged water (Yuck!). On closer inspection still, I also found that traces of fungus were beginning to appear right at the basin board and just when I thought that I had seen it all I found mosquito larvae floating merrily in the clogged basin (now a drain!) along with some cockroaches in the dry periphery.
Damn! I thought, first of all we bachelors are happy messing around the place and when the time comes to clean up I am all alone! Momentarily it crossed my mind,maybe I should sneak outside and spit my toothpaste in the neighbours porch. But I thought otherwise and decided to do one good thing until now and decided to clean up the place.
So here I was with my toothbrush still in my mouth and I started rumagging in my store room and finally found myself a cleaning brush. At least it remotely resembeled a cleaning brush. Then I started with first clearing the clogging and then washing it with some good ol' detergent powder. All the clogged material had to be cleared personally by me and then finally I cleared my throat in the basin before the time came to vomit it out along with my last nights food content.
I then opened the tap and let it stay for a while and finally...
And finally I managed to get hold of some phenyl (imagine I am making it sound heavenly for additional effect) I turned off the tap and sprinkled it generously over my wash basin and then finally looked at it. I could see the original stainless steel of the wash basin.
But the most satisfiying thing was the smell of phenyl. How good it smelled. Maybe the smell of flower or the smell of a woman is better. But at this moment nothing, absolutely nothing could compare the smell of phenyl. To me now it resembled bliss, ecstacy all rolled into one...
The smell of phenyl never felt so good. NEVER EVER so good.
So much in a days work.
Yes, I am alive and well. Since the day I started working, I feel this is the first public holiday that I have encountered. Rest assured that I may NOT be able to find time in the future soon.
Well so much for me and my blogging.
Poetry and Prose alike, a lot of people have written on smell. Rudimentary stuff like smell of flowers to highly sensual stuff like the smell (or scent !) of a woman. A lot of writing on smell exists around the world.
Well today is 'Raksha Bandhan', a very important festival in our country. People get up in the morning, have a bath to get squeaky clean and then dress their best for the occasion. Girls in bright yellow to deep red and guys mostly in White Kurtas and their other colors are either blue or black.....
And here I was, 9:30 a.m, at my place, just out of bed in my residence. My hair style loosely resembled that of Einstein, hair standing on its ends, giving me a look as if I had just been electrocuted. Well, there I stood along with my pathetic looks and my toothbrush in my mouth and stared down at the basin. Here is what I saw..
Normally one would expect water to be clogged in the basin. But along with that there were other assorted items like chillies, capsicum, cabbage. On close inspection I could also find some cough and sputum floating around the already clogged water (Yuck!). On closer inspection still, I also found that traces of fungus were beginning to appear right at the basin board and just when I thought that I had seen it all I found mosquito larvae floating merrily in the clogged basin (now a drain!) along with some cockroaches in the dry periphery.
Damn! I thought, first of all we bachelors are happy messing around the place and when the time comes to clean up I am all alone! Momentarily it crossed my mind,maybe I should sneak outside and spit my toothpaste in the neighbours porch. But I thought otherwise and decided to do one good thing until now and decided to clean up the place.
So here I was with my toothbrush still in my mouth and I started rumagging in my store room and finally found myself a cleaning brush. At least it remotely resembeled a cleaning brush. Then I started with first clearing the clogging and then washing it with some good ol' detergent powder. All the clogged material had to be cleared personally by me and then finally I cleared my throat in the basin before the time came to vomit it out along with my last nights food content.
I then opened the tap and let it stay for a while and finally...
And finally I managed to get hold of some phenyl (imagine I am making it sound heavenly for additional effect) I turned off the tap and sprinkled it generously over my wash basin and then finally looked at it. I could see the original stainless steel of the wash basin.
But the most satisfiying thing was the smell of phenyl. How good it smelled. Maybe the smell of flower or the smell of a woman is better. But at this moment nothing, absolutely nothing could compare the smell of phenyl. To me now it resembled bliss, ecstacy all rolled into one...
The smell of phenyl never felt so good. NEVER EVER so good.
So much in a days work.
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
On Holi.......
‘As today is Holi I wish you all a Happy Holi’
This was one of the dumb lines that I came across while surfing various blogs. I thought I would spare the person the humiliation of suffering alone. So I took some burden off him or her.
Besides I had no spectacular headline to think off.
My Holi is absolutely ‘thanda’. I am at home all squeaky clean while down below I see children and adults stuffing color onto their faces and mouths alike. I see colors of all hues and shades on the faces and teeth of persons who are enjoying it. These persons will remember today’s Holi even after today. Because they will be reminded about it when they see the colors on their food bite days from today.
In between all these celebrations I see some sparkling people. Not because some Aishwarya Rai had come in our society, but due to the fact they were covered in peculiar colors of Golden and Silver. Sparkling under the morning sun they were looking especially queer. They looked slated to play a warriors’ role in a play or something alike. These colors were not in vogue or maybe not available when I was young and playing Holi.
Suddenly you find projectiles in the form of balloons flying around, today they being more potent than our nuclear arsenal combined.
As more and more people get into the festive mood I find some people in a state of euphoria and ecstasy. They seem to be in some kind of drug induced trance. Such is the power of Holi in our country.
Before I can get into my patriotic mood completely, suddenly comes a splash of water. I think they have modified a household water pipe into a fire hose of some kind. And amidst all the drenched people in various colors you can’t help but notice two young eleven year olds just standing there with their mouths opened. I try to find the source of their reactions. I find the young boys are watching a pretty young dumb girl in T-shirt and jeans, all drenched. These poor boys are trying to comprehend the new information being presented to them by her.
All in a days work I guess.
The DJ keeps spinning his records. I wish to be in his shoes, partly because I love music and partly because I have just got new DJ software. I am wondering whether to go down and join the festivities or not. Just then my mom yells to pack my bags as I have to move out of town in a few days from now.
I stop wondering and start packing my bags.
Happy Holi.
This was one of the dumb lines that I came across while surfing various blogs. I thought I would spare the person the humiliation of suffering alone. So I took some burden off him or her.
Besides I had no spectacular headline to think off.
My Holi is absolutely ‘thanda’. I am at home all squeaky clean while down below I see children and adults stuffing color onto their faces and mouths alike. I see colors of all hues and shades on the faces and teeth of persons who are enjoying it. These persons will remember today’s Holi even after today. Because they will be reminded about it when they see the colors on their food bite days from today.
In between all these celebrations I see some sparkling people. Not because some Aishwarya Rai had come in our society, but due to the fact they were covered in peculiar colors of Golden and Silver. Sparkling under the morning sun they were looking especially queer. They looked slated to play a warriors’ role in a play or something alike. These colors were not in vogue or maybe not available when I was young and playing Holi.
Suddenly you find projectiles in the form of balloons flying around, today they being more potent than our nuclear arsenal combined.
As more and more people get into the festive mood I find some people in a state of euphoria and ecstasy. They seem to be in some kind of drug induced trance. Such is the power of Holi in our country.
Before I can get into my patriotic mood completely, suddenly comes a splash of water. I think they have modified a household water pipe into a fire hose of some kind. And amidst all the drenched people in various colors you can’t help but notice two young eleven year olds just standing there with their mouths opened. I try to find the source of their reactions. I find the young boys are watching a pretty young dumb girl in T-shirt and jeans, all drenched. These poor boys are trying to comprehend the new information being presented to them by her.
All in a days work I guess.
The DJ keeps spinning his records. I wish to be in his shoes, partly because I love music and partly because I have just got new DJ software. I am wondering whether to go down and join the festivities or not. Just then my mom yells to pack my bags as I have to move out of town in a few days from now.
I stop wondering and start packing my bags.
Happy Holi.
Saturday, March 04, 2006
Another day in the train.
I come home daily tired and exhausted. Everyday has its own hassles. And traveling on Mumbai’s local trains can be a harrowing experience in a different way altogether.
Just a while back I was traveling in a local train, there was this man who was seemingly frustrated in the jam packed, bone crushing crowd. He had a ‘minor altercation’ with other fellow passengers. At that time I was standing in one corner and observing. Just to let you know that since the day I started traveling, not one day has gone by where there has not been a squabble in the train coaches. I wondered why…
In retrospect, there was no need to wonder. I find, in a cramped coach with almost three hundred to four hundred people on board, you can hardly expect anything else but for tempers to flare up. Many are in a hurry. Many have personal anguish written on their faces. One young college fellow is desperately trying to ward off other people and protecting his girlfriend by forming a cocoon around her. One fellow is practically wondering how to stand with one lunch box in hand and a file on the other and his bag hanging from his shoulders. Almost seven people are hanging precariously from one footbridge. Some of them hang there to get the fresh breeze; some just have no choice but to hang. Another fellow traveler is wondering how to reach out to his mobile phone which is ringing incessantly in the midst of this maddening crowd.
But as I stand there observing, my eyes fixed themselves on an old man. His wrinkles spoke of the years gone by. His eyes conveyed no particular emotion. An old woman was standing close to him, his wife, I assumed. He hand one hand round her shoulder. In the midst of all the noise, all the crowd, they were quiet. Their lips never moved. Both of them were staring out into the evening sun. Were they used to traveling like this, I wondered. Or were they too tired to complain? Or just maybe they chose to travel silently, a wise choice for an old couple.
As I dodge other people elbows, shoulders, bags and other things. I still cannot get my eyes off the elderly couple. How can they be so peaceful and quiet in this atmosphere? None were giving any regards to their old age. They too were being hassled by others. How can one be so nonchalant, so stoic in a way…..how?
While I was pondering this, the next station came. I got down, so did the elderly couple. Just out of curiosity I decided to follow them till the exit. They both, hand in hand were walking towards the exit. Still their eyes conveyed no expression, people still jostled by them, some shoving and pushing them along the way. Just then I find a faint smile on the old mans lips. His eyes were more purposeful, his movements, suddenly becoming co-coordinated. It looked as if some alien force had instilled some life in him. He waved to somebody. My eyes followed them. What had happened? How come this transformation? Just then I see a gathering of about ten to twelve people. A man bowed down and touched his feet, most probably his son. Same he did with his mother. I noticed that a tear drop had formed in the elderly woman’s eyes.
Now they seemed to be full of life. They took the small children in their laps and started playing with them. I could see them conversing, laughing, gesturing etc. One by one they boarded their Toyota Qualis and left. Their loud voices slowly trailed off. All was once as before.
A cold breeze had started blowing now. I just stood there. Pondering on the events I had just witnessed. I realized something. Something you all must have realized by now. Their hope had not diminished. Although they were old and haggard, they lived for their loved ones, and came back to them after their long and hard travel.
I smiled to myself and I started walking towards my house. The cool breeze was swaying over my face. I prepared myself for another harrowing day tomorrow.
Life suddenly seemed full of hope. It felt like it was worth living again.
Just a while back I was traveling in a local train, there was this man who was seemingly frustrated in the jam packed, bone crushing crowd. He had a ‘minor altercation’ with other fellow passengers. At that time I was standing in one corner and observing. Just to let you know that since the day I started traveling, not one day has gone by where there has not been a squabble in the train coaches. I wondered why…
In retrospect, there was no need to wonder. I find, in a cramped coach with almost three hundred to four hundred people on board, you can hardly expect anything else but for tempers to flare up. Many are in a hurry. Many have personal anguish written on their faces. One young college fellow is desperately trying to ward off other people and protecting his girlfriend by forming a cocoon around her. One fellow is practically wondering how to stand with one lunch box in hand and a file on the other and his bag hanging from his shoulders. Almost seven people are hanging precariously from one footbridge. Some of them hang there to get the fresh breeze; some just have no choice but to hang. Another fellow traveler is wondering how to reach out to his mobile phone which is ringing incessantly in the midst of this maddening crowd.
But as I stand there observing, my eyes fixed themselves on an old man. His wrinkles spoke of the years gone by. His eyes conveyed no particular emotion. An old woman was standing close to him, his wife, I assumed. He hand one hand round her shoulder. In the midst of all the noise, all the crowd, they were quiet. Their lips never moved. Both of them were staring out into the evening sun. Were they used to traveling like this, I wondered. Or were they too tired to complain? Or just maybe they chose to travel silently, a wise choice for an old couple.
As I dodge other people elbows, shoulders, bags and other things. I still cannot get my eyes off the elderly couple. How can they be so peaceful and quiet in this atmosphere? None were giving any regards to their old age. They too were being hassled by others. How can one be so nonchalant, so stoic in a way…..how?
While I was pondering this, the next station came. I got down, so did the elderly couple. Just out of curiosity I decided to follow them till the exit. They both, hand in hand were walking towards the exit. Still their eyes conveyed no expression, people still jostled by them, some shoving and pushing them along the way. Just then I find a faint smile on the old mans lips. His eyes were more purposeful, his movements, suddenly becoming co-coordinated. It looked as if some alien force had instilled some life in him. He waved to somebody. My eyes followed them. What had happened? How come this transformation? Just then I see a gathering of about ten to twelve people. A man bowed down and touched his feet, most probably his son. Same he did with his mother. I noticed that a tear drop had formed in the elderly woman’s eyes.
Now they seemed to be full of life. They took the small children in their laps and started playing with them. I could see them conversing, laughing, gesturing etc. One by one they boarded their Toyota Qualis and left. Their loud voices slowly trailed off. All was once as before.
A cold breeze had started blowing now. I just stood there. Pondering on the events I had just witnessed. I realized something. Something you all must have realized by now. Their hope had not diminished. Although they were old and haggard, they lived for their loved ones, and came back to them after their long and hard travel.
I smiled to myself and I started walking towards my house. The cool breeze was swaying over my face. I prepared myself for another harrowing day tomorrow.
Life suddenly seemed full of hope. It felt like it was worth living again.
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