I am Moved

It was 2.30 pm.i was on my way to the railway station.Din't feel like leaving the privileges of home.But with an averse attitude, here i was about to board my train. Through the black film on the window of my air cooled car, I tried combing in the dark mirror…as i peeked through the glass, my sight landed on a grey haired man…with drops of sweat accumulated on his forehead, he paddled his cycle in the natural heat of june… his dabba hung from the right handle,he smiled at the crab race at the red light,waved back to a bhelpuri wala, there was an indubious calmness in his expression…no I am not saying he smiled like a fool in the drenching heat but I could read that he had no self jostle.He parked his cycle along the wall and went inside a carpentry shop before I could observe more …my car had already left him far behind…like many other cars on the pathway that went along the 15 sector market.

All of us have heard of people slogging their days and nights but seeing a lower strata person performing for his daily bread brings in a sense of utmost respect for them…and for the ‘hard work’ that a human has to go through for success, that success which is not in terms of recognition he possesses, no acclaim, no pat on the back, no peck on the cheek …but a success- in merely fulfilling the responsibility for his family, for which he does not have to be answerable to any authority. All this input for earning the daily bread is merely for that hearty satisfaction when he sleeps, and thats all that drives him-the beauty of bonding :)