A stroll and a glance..
As I went to take my usual evening stroll, the evening already worn its dark tone as the silhouettes grew darker. A good few mile walk, with the city lights shimmering in the neighborhood kids’ eyes and their faces covered with masks; the walk was complete. It was time to go back.
Dodging the traffic and people without a mask, midway, a dark figure near a small cigarette seller was just settling down on the bare ground, dirty and dusty.
The Azaan had just gotten louder as he took a seat on the dusty sidewalk with a worn down look on his face. This was probably his first meal of the day. The meal included a bun with the smallest cup of tea the cigarette seller had to offer.
This wasn’t a transaction though; only a person in misery could truly understand someone else’s misery. The misery of sheer survival. The feeling of hunger and helplessness, which a lot among us take for granted each day. This was alms given to the poor guy by the seller. The dark figure had a gloomy face. The helplessness of not being able to manage a single meal for himself. The helplessness on his face, as if his tears would flood the street.
As he dipped the bun into the tea, he ensured he eats the portion slowly, for this will be his dinner and his breakfast until he finds another meal. My words are too weak to describe the gloom that surrounded the poor soul and this meal. Torn and shabby clothes, just enough to cover the his body. Without passing a judgement here, I wish I could find an excuse for myself to convince that his appearance and condition is anything other than sheer poverty and misery; for he was in a condition I wished no one was. The same bun and tea, which is a choice for millions, was survival for him.
The silhouette dipped his bun in the tea as a couple of religious men with a skull cap passed chanting the same verses as the Azaan’s. Far away, 5th of August was being celebrated with chants and praises to Lord Ram. Indeed, may Lord Ram help and bless us all.
As he took the first bite of the day, a moment of relief followed which was visible from his forehead. His glabella was visible now. He sighed, looked at the sky and probably thanked; or cursed.
“We’re Not Just Here For Us, We’re Here For Others.”
After Life
I wondered if that’s how he ate everyday- off the generosity of some roadside vendor who understood his misery more than us, the fortunate ones. I looked at the sky and prayed for him; then walked past him without another glance. I prayed some more. But does any God accept the prayers of an agnostic? Would he manage the next meal or would he be suffering the incomprehensible misery of existence with no privileges apart from having his body intact? Unconvinced, I decided to turn back.
