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.
3 comments:
hey ! thanx for dropping by...
Missing the mumbai fun eh?
I read ur post about the local train ... completely enjoyed it!
U aren't here in mumbai now?
Dear Deba ,
Finaly have read ur nicely written Blod. as it always i like ur minute observation. Try to elaborate thsi such small observation if u want write small book.
Keep Writing.
Beautifully written.
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