On faces and disposition (6.)

Photo Source: http://i.telegraph.co.uk/multimedia/archive/02742/delhi-tunnel_2742305b.jpg
I was standing in the metro coach, when my eyes caught the sight of the old man. He was shorter in height, but positive in every foot that he put forth. He was attired in the formal shirt-pant. His grey hair told me, that he was still passionate about his work, his job.  A thought passed through my mind to consider his age, that why did he have to continue with work even in his old age? Well, the next moment I only answered myself- “there is no age limit to work.”

He made me think in the whole journey of the metro train which we led in the morning. Starting from the moment when he had entered the metro coach, making his way through the crowd. He couldn’t find a seat for himself when two old men were already seated on the seat where he had stepped forward to. They didn’t give him seat, even after considering that he looked older than them. But the seat in front of them was the one where again two old men were seated. They invited him to sit with them, in the same space where earlier he was denied space. I saw, the three men didn’t utter a single word but understood the words through one another’s eyes. They had understood how it felt to be in that age, when they had to continue their struggles that they had been leading all their lives.

Silence, composition and bonhomie amongst three men whom I hadn’t known, took my heart away this morning. I understood that it was alright to continue efforts if that was the only way life worked. For a moment, I did think about their retirement plans, that they could have saved enough money to sustain their old age. But, I don’t know their struggle or anything about them. Only what I know about them is kindness and strength. Through their short steps that they put, through their thin hands, they must be building on big dreams for someone at home, I realized. Those were my thoughts and my opinions. You might say that I was judging them all the way from their first look, but I learnt from them what textbooks couldn’t imbibe in me. It was love and compassion which their eyes sparked when their eyes caught me staring at them.

Then my station came and I had the last eye contact with the old man, whom I had noticed at first in the metro coach. He smiled as he looked at me while I smiled back and walked out of the train to reach my office.

Gagandeep Singh Vaid

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