The kindness of strangers

Among the pep talk recounts by friends. Here's one that I heard recently -

On the train right now, was offered a share of the home-cooked food being eaten by the elderly woman sitting next to me. Brought back memories of another incident. A few weeks ago, on the same train, travelling on the same sector..it had been one of those days being repeated again and again over the past two months. And as I sat staring out of the window unble to hide the pain and tears, two elderly men sitting across from me offered me tea. And insisted that I drink it. About an hour later, as they got ready to get down at their station, one of them very gently and for a fleeting moment patted my head, wispered 'take care' and disappeared.

The lady sitting next to me, brought back that incident. Sometimes, the kindness of strangers, just keeps you hanging on.

I like Flowers

Mist


Temptation


Symmetry


Maze


And if you like these, keep an eye out for more such colours and travel photography, on my online picture portfolio, to be launched soon.

The drizzle

Today the leaves on the tree are in a mood to frolic - lazily.
Most do a languid Mexican wave starting from the back and moving to the front of the tree.
Some are fluttering around gently, doing their own thing.
The ones right on top are the exhuberant ones, waving madly to the airplane passing high in the sky.
More and more branches seem bare, but these are still being outnumbered by those full of leaves, green and yellow.
The leaves look young and happy.
The early morning drizzle seems to have done them good.
This weekend.

Being.

It is Sunday morning. Summer is almost here but the morning breeze is still pleasant. The balcony doors are open and the curtains are drawn. I see the curtains billow slightly and move with the breeze. Slowly.

There are layers of sounds around. As you struggle to keep your mind busy. You focus on sounds.

There is a big neem tree outside the balcony. With branches laden with green leaves. Together defying the approaching summer.

I can hear the chirp of birds. Sparrows remind me of my childhood. Of the years of growing up. Happier times.

The curtains move slightly with the breeze. Transparent curtains have a way of allowing your mind to travel. You can look out into the world. The trees. The sky. You can see all this. But the world can’t see you. You are safe. And behind the slowly moving curtains, time moves slowly.

I focus on the birds again. So many sounds from the tree. But you have to listen carefully. When you reach for them, the sounds have a way of seeking you out and meeting you.

A bell rings in a distant flat. Loud flaps of the wings of a bird flying off from the tree. There are distant traffic noises. The world is getting busy. And the sound of a broom sweeping off leaves and dust on the road below. The sound of water. And another bird. Kabadiwallah doing his rounds of the colony. The door of the flat opposite just opened. It creaks and is not shut yet. So I wonder what they are doing. Maybe the partly open door is their curtain. Are they trying to hold on too. Are they thinking. Or does life go on as normal inside. They are busy with the act of living and have forgotten the door. They no longer need to focus on it. It is not that important.

Bits of the breeze escape from between the curtains and reach me for a split second. Then go back and move the curtains a bit more.

..wondering

...that it is impossible to know all aspects of another human being. Or even to know all about just that one aspect. Both seem impossible. But then how well do we know ourselves. We might not really be as strong as we think we are. Or as weak. In both cases we didn't really know ourselves as well as we thought.

Tweet

'...There's a legend about an Indian chef. Apparently he would bake live birds into pies, so that they flew out the moment guests began their meal...'


From the article 'Magicians' in The Hindu/ Metroplus of 31 Jan 09.