So you start your day, everyday, there is traffic, some bug in iOS(damn you Apple), trouble staying awake at work after lunch, getting back sometime the same day, etc. Every day ordeals these.
This post is not about my or your everyday ordeals but what I saw today.
There was a girl. She looked at us. She couldn't stop looking at us. As if we had something that she wanted. So bad. The neglect. The utter expression of "why me?". Why can't I have what you have? She wants a normal life. A father, a mother, a place. A home with some warmth. She was surrounded by the same people everyday, spent most of her life with them. Yet she is as alone as anyone else in the room. Her eyes spoke what she could not. Her eyes beheld the tears within. Just a tinge, and there would be a deluge. Ah, the misery of youth. The torment of being a child unknown. What do you say when she says "Thank you"? "You are welcome" does a gross injustice to her gratefulness.
There were others. Some aware, most unaware. Too busy about how to use their fists to get some food into their gullets. What must be pain to them, I wonder. What must be joy. Yes I saw them laugh. They smiled back, they waved back. Coyly. A sheepish grin follows. And a twirl of the spinal cord. Then back to the dinner plate.
And there was another. I don't know how old she was. She looked small. But I could still see the years, they have been cruel to her. When we talk, she looks. Looking for dissent, searching our faces for what the exchange happening in our cold cruel tongue. But we smiled back, she tried. But she knew we knew she knew. She wished us a good night. And straddled away into her silence.
I feel I have a strong receptor for pain and my mind resonates with that pain when it is found. While moving among a crowd, I can see the pain meter radiating out of the crowd, and the empathy streams in like a gush of water released from a dam. And the cold sweat, a churn in the underbelly and a swallow of meaningless air. Waiting for the feeling to just wash over and leave me back. Yes, leave. Pain can carry one away, to a point where there is no pit deeper, no tundra colder, no vacuum more choking and no silence more stifling. Words are difficult to come by in these times. There is an absorption, a wait and an expulsion. The expulsion is key. Else I will be anchored there.
No, what I feel is not my pain. I am not sure my pain matters. But there was some light today. Illuminating the stony shadows. Some were, you could say callously, "ready for life". They do what is the most revered service to anything divine. Serving another being, nourishing them, caring for them till they can stand on their own. I wonder what gave them these superpowers. Then I was reminded, these people were in the same state what I see of the young ones now. Yes, hope. Rita Hayworth and Shawshank Redemption. Everyday ordeals melted. I could see the glimmer of the ray that made these girls smile. And live. And have a life that is almost "normal".
Yes, this date, ten years back is blurring, as the rivers flow, the forests burn and the stars die. I have no cognizance of the duration of the events. But my vision is clear as ever through this haze of time. Soon I will forget today's eyes, today's glances, today's waves, and start drowning in my pains and pleasures. But tonight I am going to let the glimpses stay a little longer, let it ebb and flow over me. Wash me over. Again and again.
P.S: Not much fiction, but there is little where facts are not necessary.
This post is not about my or your everyday ordeals but what I saw today.
There was a girl. She looked at us. She couldn't stop looking at us. As if we had something that she wanted. So bad. The neglect. The utter expression of "why me?". Why can't I have what you have? She wants a normal life. A father, a mother, a place. A home with some warmth. She was surrounded by the same people everyday, spent most of her life with them. Yet she is as alone as anyone else in the room. Her eyes spoke what she could not. Her eyes beheld the tears within. Just a tinge, and there would be a deluge. Ah, the misery of youth. The torment of being a child unknown. What do you say when she says "Thank you"? "You are welcome" does a gross injustice to her gratefulness.
There were others. Some aware, most unaware. Too busy about how to use their fists to get some food into their gullets. What must be pain to them, I wonder. What must be joy. Yes I saw them laugh. They smiled back, they waved back. Coyly. A sheepish grin follows. And a twirl of the spinal cord. Then back to the dinner plate.
And there was another. I don't know how old she was. She looked small. But I could still see the years, they have been cruel to her. When we talk, she looks. Looking for dissent, searching our faces for what the exchange happening in our cold cruel tongue. But we smiled back, she tried. But she knew we knew she knew. She wished us a good night. And straddled away into her silence.
I feel I have a strong receptor for pain and my mind resonates with that pain when it is found. While moving among a crowd, I can see the pain meter radiating out of the crowd, and the empathy streams in like a gush of water released from a dam. And the cold sweat, a churn in the underbelly and a swallow of meaningless air. Waiting for the feeling to just wash over and leave me back. Yes, leave. Pain can carry one away, to a point where there is no pit deeper, no tundra colder, no vacuum more choking and no silence more stifling. Words are difficult to come by in these times. There is an absorption, a wait and an expulsion. The expulsion is key. Else I will be anchored there.
No, what I feel is not my pain. I am not sure my pain matters. But there was some light today. Illuminating the stony shadows. Some were, you could say callously, "ready for life". They do what is the most revered service to anything divine. Serving another being, nourishing them, caring for them till they can stand on their own. I wonder what gave them these superpowers. Then I was reminded, these people were in the same state what I see of the young ones now. Yes, hope. Rita Hayworth and Shawshank Redemption. Everyday ordeals melted. I could see the glimmer of the ray that made these girls smile. And live. And have a life that is almost "normal".
Yes, this date, ten years back is blurring, as the rivers flow, the forests burn and the stars die. I have no cognizance of the duration of the events. But my vision is clear as ever through this haze of time. Soon I will forget today's eyes, today's glances, today's waves, and start drowning in my pains and pleasures. But tonight I am going to let the glimpses stay a little longer, let it ebb and flow over me. Wash me over. Again and again.
P.S: Not much fiction, but there is little where facts are not necessary.
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