I.S.B.T. Guwahati. 8.30 a.m. After almost a week in the capital city it was time to turn homewards. Bus at 8.45. The inner circular hall with ticket counters and resting seats was fairly populated. Just another casual morning at the stop so to say.
Sitting on a steel chair, looking sidewise, feeling lonely and stupid there was nothing else to do but stare at no one or everyone. The scenic beauty of the hills had bored me enough in a week. Staring at beautiful girls of the city turned out to be even more boring. Homesick at last!
Televisions in the hall were turned on. Singer Dikshu with a girl on a jeep riding across a countryside. A typical Assamese modern musical song.
All of a sudden, this reddish and yellowish butterfly slipped into the hall and began flapping around me. Lively, beautiful. As if it just flew out of a nursery rhymes book. A few turns and twists, and then it moved along its undetermined way... I finished appreciating it and sooner my bus arrived. I turned left to pick my bags up.
A little girl in rugged cloths stood before me stretching her right hand out. A few coins in it. A strange look in her eyes. She said nothing but stood looking at me. Her eyes seemed to question me, "Are you giving me something? I am begging you."
I have ignored beggers in Guwahati. Every single one of them. But this girl looking at me was something different. I reached for my purse. I had four 500 notes. A 50, and three 10s. I digged in more and pulled out a five rupees coin and landed it on her palm. She moved on to others without uttering a single word. I watched. Everyone had something for her that day. Five people in a row were pulling out coins for her. Soon her palm contained more coins than she could hold. She turned to leave and her little eyes looked back at me. But her questioning look was gone and her stranged look changed. Some satisfaction it was? A knowing smile spread across me as I picked my bags. Sometimes it's not just about a simple coin, not just about a hungry begger, but too about an existing helping hand in you and how you influence others with it. And thus making this world a little better place where people care for each other...
Done with the philosophy, I began walking to the bus. The butterfly didn't return to make things too dramatic. Found my seat and got ready for the 8 hours journey. A couple of young girls followed me into the bus. A usual eye contact. Lol.
9 a.m. The journey began. Across Beltola, Khanapara. . . The hills come closer once more. I turned on the A/C ventilator. Breathing in the cooler air I decided, the hills are not that bad at all!
- From a small encounter recently
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FRIENDSHIP, LOVE, LIFE & MORE...
Short Story"Life is like a giant bike. It can be broken but also repaired. Although there are times when it's broken beyond repair. Through these times we must never give up..." - Excerpt Lately, after some lightweight wrestling with my thoughts, I have decide...
