Living in a metropolitan city brings forth the beauty of life in a very diverse perception. It was only the other day, I decided to board the metro instead of commuting in my vehicle. Away from the scorching sun and the poisonous smoke that the vehicles puff out, including mine. I needed a day to ditch them all. I needed my time to think through the day.
The place I was traveling was an hour away traveling on my bike, the metro train promised to put me there in about 20 minutes. The 24 km shrunk into 20 mins. I realized I have started to measure the distance by the time taken to commute after the commence of the Metro. What I thought would be my travel was a whole new experience.
I leaned on the black granite pillar on the platform clutching my phone to my heart, pondering if I would be mugged in a place like this. A sophisticated outstretch of the platform convinced me of the lesser odds. A lady, not more than thirty started to wipe the floors clean devoid of the footprints the many commuters bring with them. I noticed her, so impeccably dressed, absolutely no make-up, just a wash, probably a common powder, her hairs oiled, braided into the finest and the mannerism and pride while she swept the floor with the mop.
She took pride in her deeds. The more I observed her, more intrigued I became to know about the family she comes from. What kind of financial background must have forced her into a menial job? Was she more skilled in other arts? Anything that might help her earn more.
Before I could advance to have a small talk with her, the zooming train, without much noise planted itself in front of me. The bustling crowd gathered around me now. All along I was oblivious to their existence. As the metallic door slid away into oblivion, Everybody found their comfortable places in the train. I took a seat that was waiting empty as soon I boarded.
But nobody made a fuss about it, there was no bungee jumping to mark the seat as their territory, no kerchief was thrown nor the bags planted stealthily to steal the seats. Oh, it was such a relief to have a better commutation in Bangalore.
I reckon it is the short span of time the metro promises all of us to reach us safely and quickly. it is like teleporting.
As I sat there, I looked at a young lad no more than fourteen, probably returning from his tuitions hung large headphones that would save him from the chaos of the outer real world and make him the king in his comfort zone. He was completely in another world.
But who would know? Was he really listening to those songs? was it a mask of modernity to hide the real worries, however, insignificant they might seem, he held on to his image.
There was a chatter to my right who instantly took my attention, two girls giggling and totally living the gala times. I reckon they were from college with their hair let down and chaotic giggles gauging them with their backs facing me. Turns out I was wrong, they were in their mid-thirties, working women and so happy living their life to their fullest.
I wish I could speak to all of them to their stories and inculcate them into mine, a bit of their sorrows, a bit of their smiles and bit of their tardiness!
A story that can be heard, a story that can be learned from.
And that is what one of my writer friend did! She got to know the story amidst all the bustling crowd. A story and a lifetime lesson from a person bedecked with wisdom and gratitude for life.
Here’s the link.
Please read her, Bhavana’s story and vote for her:)