My city has always been a betrayer whenever it came to hide the memories. In every lane and street, the memories lay bare and fresh. Like the scorching heat of summer, at times those memories burn the peace, while at times brought shower to the drought land of the bereaved heart. In my city, the lanes are like that pal of yours who embraces you with open arms years after and rejuvenate you with the moments that you have lived once.
My usual visits are limited. I don't know much of it, yet in that boundary I have lived the best of my life so far. As I took a walk from one part of the city to another, while covering few curvy and dusty lanes, I saw two people walking side by side with their hands colliding every time they take a step together. The monsoon has just arrived and the trees which I left behind were gleaming with freshly fallen droplets. The sudden rain entangled with the dust and transformed into tiny puddles. There's that one tree where my eyes stuck as I saw them walking. It had a touch of autumn in it. A bunch of golden leaves were clinging to the bare branch and quivering merrily.
I stopped and so did them. Their hands didn't collide this time. there's a lane on the left where they turned and I followed. How absurd it is to follow the footsteps of two random people in between no where? But I did with no guilt inside. I smiled as I took the turn. I found us walking gleefully yet again. Back in that year's autumn, we landed up at this part of the city to avoid the festive crowd. I remember how easily he used to get annoyed seeing the rush of crowds and complained continuously about the indiscipline of civil life. Being a little detached area, the pandal was less crowded. As the walk was a long one to avoid the usual crowd, we halted at a local shop to get a chilled bottle of water. Here, during the season of autumn, you will find a sense of warmth in every person you will meet. The festivity overpowers any other shackle that comes in between.
One old man was talking to a kid who probably came there for buying chocolates. While I was busy telling him every other thing on earth, his eyes and mind rested on their conversation. To my surprise, he suddenly said to the shopkeeper to give him both the things he wanted. Probably both me and the shopkeeper showed our amazement with a prolonged "What?". The kid was reluctant to take it and he was in no way giving up. I have learnt from him how to make someone comfortable just through words. In no time the kid was giggling and telling him how much he loves to play cricket. The shopkeeper on the other hand was blankly looking at his face. Later he explained in a soothing voice how in his entire life he has never seen a person like that. At first I didn't know whether it was a compliment. The old man was wearing high powered spectacles which he adjusted twice and convinced the kid to take another piece of chocolate.
By that time I didn't even ask for the water for which we halted. The kid who was probably in standard six was by then telling everything with superb enthusiasm. He pointed at the pandal and asked whether we know about the theme or not. Before that I didn't have a look at the pandal. I turned back and saw the replica of Amar Jawan Jyot in the front with a board mentioning 'Tribute to the Kargil War Heroes'. I smiled and so did he. The kid decided to leave as he was getting late and we asked for a bottle of water. The old man came back with a bottle in his hand and asked politely, "What do you do?"
I don’t know why but he becomes a little secretive when it comes to this question. He looked at me and smiled. But this time replied with a smile, “I am trying to be a good son to my motherland.” The old man didn’t say anything and went inside and meanwhile he grabbed the bottle to drink some water. The old man came back with a piece of card where there were four pictures of gods and goddesses. With a smile on face he said, “I have nothing much but this to acknowledge what you do. Keep it with you wherever you go and this protect you. I knew you are no ordinary person I meet every other day.” He stood still while holding the photo. I thanked the shopkeeper and so did he as the old man wished all the good things for him by placing his wrinkled hands on his hand.
I don’t know what more we can earn as an individual than this; a random stranger praying for your well-being and his eyes sparkling with joy. Today, as I was standing at the same place, I couldn’t gather enough courage to go inside the shop, but what I carried back home was our memories of that autumn. How often we distracted and how often we find ourselves rushing back to the same thing again and again. May be tomorrow I will end up reaching another lane where I will find us sitting and giggling at some random joke.
Things went magically insane the very moment someone's presence rejuvenated life back into the dead city of mine. A gush of wind passed by in the wind hushing some symphony of belongingness. I stood still for a while in amusement looking at the way things were around, all of a sudden. The sick old tree beside the lake had tiny green leaves peeping out from the lifeless branch. The heart sighed after a long; the change was for good. It was almost evening and the dark didn't scare me. The lonely cuckoo was duetting with some other bird which I failed to recognize. My world was getting dipped into the leftover of the sunset, all magical and bright. Almost a month passed since that day. Today, the wind reminded me of that time when he arrived with hands full of amusement, restlessness, sparkles and magic. The wind is crisp and soothing, despite all the heated situations in between. May be it's not the city, may be it's not the wind nor even those golden hues. May be it is ...
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