Humans, when they are so, are
unpredictable. Equally perplexing are their relationships. While sometimes
their profound perceptiveness fulfills you, the other times their blatant
callousness trivializes you. More so when, either, is unexpected.
Human minds, too, have their
unique eccentricities. And its surprising how steadfastly we stick to the
eccentricities making them a natural part of our daily discourse. Like my mind
is a clock with an immortal battery which has a disturbing tendency of
relentlessly following a routine. Waking up at 06am, hitting the gym at 0830am,
coming back at 1015am and so on. I deliberately switch off the clock sometimes,
to feel the human inside, just as I did today when I sat to write down an
unusual experience.
One day while coming back from
the gym, something customary, yet conspicuous enough, attracted my attention.
The garbage-picker, who otherwise might have come daily at a time when I was
away at the gym, was there to collect the garbage bag.
He was a boy. A boy of about 10
or 12!
I stood for a while, watching,
disregarding his uneasiness at being shamelessly observed. He tried his best to
pretend that he was unmindful of my presence. The very moment that I thought of
turning away, he looked back, and in a childlike enthusiasm, I sprang a quick ‘Hello!’
at him. He smiled but looked confused and rode his three wheeled loaded cart.
Petite frame, non-descript smile, unbathed for weeks, in shabby and somehow
intact clothes, he cycled his way to his unkempt existential world. I relegated
to the mundaneness of my own.
Few days later, I saw him
again. This time too, the ‘hello!’ was
spontaneous. Quite pleasingly, the response in smile was more defined and
extended. I could figure out a sweet little shyness in that smile. What I
couldn’t, was whether the smile was because he expected me to greet him this
time or was it still a surprise for him.
Next day as I came back, I saw
him outside on his cart. He had already collected the garbage bag. I
immediately noticed. He was waiting. Before I could get out of my car to open
the gate, he waved at me signaling me to keep sitting. He ran and opened the
gate, for ‘me’! I just sighed and pondered and asked to my astonished self,
‘all of it, for a hello?’ !
Children are so sensitive, so perceptive
and so responsive.
They are just so pleasantly
child-like.
My words lost their way into my
amazement. He left. Thereafter, he came every day, opened the gate for me;
though not merely for an exchange of a hello; and left in quietness. I stopped
him one day to ask, ‘school jate ho?’. He nodded in negative, as if ashamed to
admit and then looked at his cart in embarrassment. I felt more ashamed than
him. I asked again, ‘padhna chahogey?’, he immediately replied, ‘kaam hai’ and
left in a hurry before I could ask more questions. Feeling determined, I tried
again the next day to convince him to come to study when he was free, but he
just politely nodded his head again, without offering explanations.
Few days later, he stopped
coming. Or may be he just chose to avoid me. I felt pinched as if ignored by a
good friend. May be I had assumed that he would wait for me every day. May be I
secretly wanted him to become a refreshing part of my relentless routine.
Then one day I saw another boy at
his place. A younger boy with similar features. When I enquired, I was stunned.
His younger brother had replaced him.
