Sunday last, after a luxurious two-day sojourn with a brother who also stays in Pune, I was returning home, a well-rested and comforted man! My mind was filled with a list of official chores that would attack me the next day, it being an ominously manic monday. (Forgive me for not capitalizing the m of monday, which I reckon is reasonable enough not to have been done)
The late evening rush on the road was now a long, slow, snaking line, of many desperate ones trying to edge the other out, in the quest to reach their destiny faster!
On one such traffic stop, thanks to the never ending I-want-to-jump-that-damned-red-light, I waited in patience listening to Unforgiven of Metallica, oddly wondering if I was actually one of those unforgiven ones fighting a constant battle against the odds and frantically demanding Nirvana, as a recompense for a seemingly not-so-rewarding life!
No sooner did I let that thought utilize a fraction of a moment longer than what was necessary, or not perhaps, a small boy of eight years something presented himself to me with a smiling face and an outstretched hand!
Instantly, I wondered how fortunate I was, being myself and having had the luxury of spending a good weekend, quality time, Et al! It took a moment more to shake myself out of the thoughtful slumber, fish out my wallet from which I dug out a certain denomination of the Indian currency and handed it out to the waiting recipient!
You should have seen the look on his face! Off he dashed, smiling to himself and I was left with a few more numbers on the now rapidly decreasing ticker of the traffic signal. Moments later, he reappeared, with what seemed to me a small family, in tow, as if to collectively express gratitude towards my minuscule gesture! I smiled at them heartily and was off in a moment, about to lose myself in the suddenly massive out pour of travellers who were now tasting freedom, relieved from the clutches of what was a terrible impediment to their otherwise smooth travel!
As for me, I was lost in thought, wondering how privileged I was, a very stark opposite of that poor kid on the road! So much for the wantons of the mind and its singsongs, and as the old adage goes - after the incident, even the fool is wise, this time the crime being slipshod wanderings of the supposedly thinking mind!
Not suprisingly, I shifted the soundtrack, to Dido's reassuring voice singing Thank You, ensuring that it was not the Stan version by Eminem!
Bloody hypo-freaking-crite, my mind thought of itself!