Some memories or incidents in our life stay forever.
There can be few experiences which are dreadful and disheartening. Though we try to forget them, they hardly can be expunged. Bits and pieces of those memories are still left with us.
People work to feed themselves and their families, live in walls built with cemented concrete slabs which they call as “Home” and live a happy life. Amongst all these merrier things, there are hindrances in life created by the tiring jobs, the pressure to achieve some goals to be met and personal problems, financial problems which build pressure, depression, agony, frustration and many more. Many try to vent it out by seeking pleasure weeding it out, some try to make some time for the things they love so that they can relieve themselves from the temporary pain, and some face the monsters of frustration as a stalwart. It’s everyone’s personal choices with no obligations.
Travelling in a, fortunately, crowd free train, making a place secure on the wooden seats, I was typing something on my mobile pondering over some thoughts and experiences when I saw this woman sitting near the footboard of the train. Her hands were robust, firm. Arms and palms were wrinkled probably by lifting heavy loads bare handed. The bangles that she wore showed her strong belief towards her tradition. She resembled some woman from the northern part of India where people of some sects wear such huge bangles and embellish themselves as a part of their tradition. She was lost in her thoughts about how she would make her bread and butter for her family. She seems broken, but her eyes and lips were sewn, made me feel that she never revealed her emotions or pain to anyone. Kept all to herself.
The enormous Bindi on her temple possibly gave her the power and focus to face this world full of fleece and chicanery. She had a small tattoo on her right hand – a shapeless flower possibly drawn by a local guy working in some nook of the street. A load full of clothes which – ripped and old, she was the rag picker. She seemed to live her daily life by with a handful of money collecting clothes and transporting it to the recycling factories. The lines on her hand depicted a completely different story. Cuts and marks resembling the pain she must have experienced while working under vulnerable circumstances.
I was gawking at her incessantly in despair, she looked at the people around her and amidst all she saw me. The next thing that I saw was the scariest of all. She jumped off the running train – head first and within a split second the lady with her shadow was gone without any imprints left behind. The one whom I was noticing for a while disappeared. A number of questions populated in my mind with no answers – all becoming skeptical about what happened just now.
It was a daunting experience where I could literally remember the glimpses of her stern look at me before the leap. It seemed as if she was making me the witness of her muddled life and took the scary step of her life. Her last look, her last breath jammed my heart and I can never forget the dreadful scene ever in my life.
As I always say, “Breathe” – feel the air passing through your nostrils, down in your lungs and feel it gushing and pumping blood to each and every part of your body. Realize the adrenaline gush and then take every step of your life. Life is short – live it to the core! Make use of it! Do not take the wrong step that would be the last of your breath.