Want love? Pay up

Just like any average Mumbaikar, I too indulge in my share of train traveling. I agree ‘indulge’ is too luxurious a word to use for travel in a local train compartment. But then its opens doors to hundreds of interesting personalities.

It was one of my typical joyrides back home. The compartment appeared to be bursting at the seams due to the sheer crowd. I was standing since the time I got in, a fact which most of you are aware of. And the mercury kept on rising second by second. I was my usual sweaty and tired self when I saw a mother and a child sitting on the seat. The child was quite cheerful and was interacting with the other co-passengers. He was about one and a half years old. I decided to steal some moments of joy from him.

I too smiled at him and struck off a conversation with him. I asked him all kinds of things like ‘Whats your name’? , ‘Where are you going?’. He answered all of them merrily in one word with that cute childish accent. Gradually he too began speaking a lot of things half of which I couldn’t decipher at all. Soon all the ill feeling created by the crowd, the sweat and the fatigue subsided. I took out a sugar candy and offered it to the child. Needless to say like any other child, he desired to take it. He gave a shy smile and looked at his mother for approval. When the mother gave a nod, he took the candy from me. I was just waiting for him to open it and put it greedily into his mouth, when something else took me by surprise.

The child went into deep thinking. After sometime he reached his tiny hand into his pocket and took out a coin and without a moment’s delay gave it to me. I refused to take it. But he wouldn’t budge. Finally I took the coin and it was only then that he started eating that candy. I secretly returned the coin back to his mother before getting off. The other co-passengers had a hearty laugh. Though I wasn’t really amused. Somewhere deep within my self, I was worried.
Are we communicating to our children something very dangerous? Are we giving them a feeling that they need to pay a price for everything? That they need to pay for love too?

The child was so gripped by the ways of our materialistic world that it couldn’t believe that he could ever get anything without giving money in exchange.

Is it just a child’s way of looking at things or an indication of a future where everything in this world, even love would come for a price?

Frozen in Time

2006 - India is in the midst of an economic boom. A fact strongly reinforced each day with the television and newspapers boasting of ‘The India Story’—increasing FII inflows, sensex zooming past the 14,000 mark, phenomenal growth in services read BPO, export of AAA rated brains, high-profile M&As to name a few.

Move in to Hope city. It’s a hot afternoon, with dust flying all over. The cloth market is teeming with activity—hawkers selling their wares, a herd of cheerful school children and businessmen at their bargaining best.

Dressed in a 60’s styled jacket and cap, he walked through the by lanes with a smile on his face, oblivious to the hustle and bustle around.

Moving slowly at a snail’s pace he would reach his dilapidated villa located at the border of Hope city. The many huge and dark trees surrounding his house seemed a century old. They looked as if they bore testimony to history and had a story to tell. There were so many dry leaves on the ground that not a patch of land was visible. Night fell upon the world enveloping it into a blanket of darkness.

He would enter in, sit for a while and get lost in thoughts. Then the croaking crows on his window would bring him back to the world. By then it would be evening. He would then light candles in front of the various deities he had collected with immense faith over the years. He would then come out of villa and sit outside.

Gazing at the stars, a content smile draws upon his wrinkled face..... That’s Stephen, for you.

Stephen’s unusual ways made me curious. His villa looked unkempt with dust and cobwebs seen all over. He really didn’t have any neighbours as such. All those who were stayed about half a kilometer away.

Each day I’d see Stephen passing through the same lanes in the same jacket and cap and of course with that inimitable smile on his face. He would not look at any one, not talk to anyone. The whole world seemed to him like some canvas, colourful yet lifeless. How could someone be so isolated, so detached ?

The question hounded me for many days till I decided to interact with Stephen. I waited in the lane. When I spotted him I said “ Hi Stephen”. He moved on as if he couldn’t hear at all. All my repeated efforts to strike a conversation with him were in vain. One day I went to his villa where he was gazing at the stars as usual. I went near and slowly said “ Aren’t they divine?” It was followed by a long spell of silence. Before I could say any further a feeble voice said “Yes”.

The magical stars had infused life into Stephen. He spoke!

Again silence followed. I said “ I like your jacket”. Stephen turned his head and looked at me with his stony eyes, smiled coyly and said “Thanks...Its my birthday jacket...Delna has gone to get candles for the cake. Waiting for her”. That was the end of the conversation. A deep silence followed. Once again the stars began to enthrall him as they had been doing unfailingly for the past so many years. And Stephen went back into his world—a world where none of us could enter.

After some investigation I found out that it was on his birthday the 17th of November 1962, that he had lost his wife Delna to a tragic accident. They were all set to cut the cake, when she realized she had forgotten to shop for the candles. Promising to be back with it, she stepped out of the home only to never come back. A speeding car hit her and she died instantaneously. When Stephen knew of this, he lost his mind. He didn’t cry, he didn’t speak. He began distancing himself from friends and acquaintances and refused to acknowledge them. He became a recluse, with the whole world seeming like an illusion and Delna being the only reality.

The rationalist in me started analyzing facts like ‘How did that jacket last for a good 46 years?’, or more so ‘How did he survive for so many years in such a mindless state?’ and things like that.

But then the fact remains that Stephen was a simple human being who had loved and was loved, a man who treasured life. For him love doesn’t just seem to die. The moment when Stephen and Delna had last lovingly gazed into each other’s eyes was immortalized in his soul.

With loving memories of Delna and the yearning to meet her, Stephen had frozen in time forever…