Author: farooq Page 10 of 45

As the rain hammers down the trees and ensures electricity catches a longish break, I long for sleep.

But, of course! I’m lying.

My caffeine addict brain pleads for a cup to make it feel sane. Times like these, I feel that my sister’s advice of getting a gas-connection instead of the induction, seems about right.

All for a cup!

The laptop’s battery lasted till I finished the finale of ‘This is us’. A tear-jerker drama that is designed  with an evil intent of making you cry. Not sad, but emotional.

An outpour. And yes, the rain outside too.

I’m worried more for my bicycle parked downstairs. After months, it was serviced, and the ride back home has given it another wash. Not a good one, though.

Also worried about my neighbors’ late night singing. Believe me, it’s not improving. On some days, I feel like shouting back the same song in response. But I hold back. One bad singer is enough for the neighborhood of Ejipura.

While the wind acts lazy and the rain seems to have taken a break, I still await the light bulb to blink.

I won’t have that Swades’ ‘Bijli’ moment but at least I’ll brew myself a cup of coffee. Maybe.

‘Yatrigan kripya dhyan den! …’ as I eagerly straightened my ears to the train announcement asking politely to listen to it. It ended with ‘… hame khed hai’ and an unprecedented wait ensued. The April heat and humidity, and having not eaten since morning, made me miss the morning breakfast. Only if I had got up early!

I searched the back pocket of my jeans. There was a 2-rupee coin.

It was the year 2011; and there was nothing I could buy for 2 Rupees that can be my, as I looked at the station clock, be my Lunch!

I went outside the station, passing over the auto rickshaws, to look for the worthy vendor who deserved my 2 rupees in return. I scanned around the lane to zero down on one stall that appeared to have a lot of Bhajjis, samosas and fried stuff.

Asking ‘….eita kitte?’ is easier when you have money. I realized it that day. 

Just then, a man walked by to give a 10 rupee note to Bhaina and got 5 Aalu chops in return. All 5 packed in the newspaper cut-out placed skewered over the counter.

Bingo!

‘Bhaina.. gotte Aloo chop ta dio’ was what I remember saying in my broken Odia.

I took the aloo chop and walked towards the station. The taste of that Aloo chop, as I took a bite, is as fresh as yesterday. I used the same oil-soaked newspaper to wrap and throw-aim at the nearby dustbin to feel elated, I missed it by a whisker (because, of course!). I was still happy, nevertheless.

Years later, the reason I still remember this, is that I wasn’t sad about it. There was no ‘moment of determination’ that I’m going to change this. There was no drama attached to that moment.

To go back and check the singular emotion going through my head: It was Hope!

The hope that this is temporary. This would change for the better. The way it has always been. On it’s own.  

What I now realize, Hope is a peculiarly strong emotion. It CAN change the perceived impossible. It has a vision and it lends wing to that vision.

We’ve all faced moments when we’re hard-pressed amidst a no-way street. The dark hours look down upon us and there seems to be nothing that can bring us out of it.

And yet, it does! With the hope that there’ll be a new dawn. It’s axiomatic that things will always change for the better. We all strive to achieve and we won’t get ALL we want. But we’ll get something. Something that’ll keep us happy to look at the past and smile about it.

The story I shared is everyone’s story. What we never had before, we have that now! Our list is long, and it keeps getting longer, and it might take the time to get it all. But we should always sit back, and see, how many of those we already have. It’s called being grateful.

I keep getting back to this 2-rupee story every now and then. What’s your story that puts a smile on your face when you remember it now?

The adrenaline pumping action sequences and the grandeur of Bahuballi was laid to rest in the late night silence of the diverging roads outside the mall.

A seat witnessing the glory of the make-believe movie world fiefdom and the contrast of the life outside is a reality check.

In the midst of those goodbyes and people requesting the ever-so-demanding autowaalas to drop them home, the ‘Sorry, we couldn’t find you a ride’ notification from Uber wasn’t a surprise.

As I skittled in vain to book a cab, a sense of ‘chal theek hai, thodi hawa khaate hain’ seeped in. And I sat there doing absolutely nothing.

I’m pretty used to being on my own. It is very mood dependent but still a major part of how I like life to be. Less intrusive, unless I allow others in. On my own time. I’m not anti-social nor do I dislike people or their company. But to stay sane, I find being selective is important. Growing older the fear of being stuck with bad apples is far more and hence the preference of the occasional pleasures of solitude becomes more important.

I like conversations. The ones where you’re not reacting or in a rush. The elaborate ones. Listen. Speak. Listen.

The driver arrived and was in a mood to talk. Probably just to stay awake for a few more hours and clock the mandatory hours/rides for the day. More Small talk. I’m okay with the awkward silences. Rather, over time, have got used to it. And so have my friends. (Hopefully!)

But the driver needed it. And so we talked. About Dinner, about Bahuballi’s impressive collection, his family, him being the sole bread earner and the standard driver-passenger talk about ‘How’s Uber doing?’.

As we said Goodnight to each other, my philosophical musings from earlier were overshadowed by the tough life of the driver. There I was pondering over me being alone after watching a movie, spending money equivalent to 4-5 rides he’ll have to make to match. First world problems!

Walking upstairs and crashing on my bed, when I wanted to, never seemed such a luxury.