Apart from the daily weary office travelers, the shouting hawkers, newspaper vendors, street dogs stretching themselves waking up from there sleep I see everyday in the morning...I see an old woman on the railway crossover bridge.
A small bundle of depleted organs and unwashed clothes sitting in the corner of the landing of the bridge. She doesn't have fingers or toes on her legs....her hands and feet are just small blobs of flesh remaining after the attack of leprosy. Her face and hair is often covered with dirt not having the luxury of having a hot water bath everyday. Her soiled saree always touching the murky ground as her old back fails to support her weight as she leans down to beg for alms to every person who passes her.
She has a few possessions which have remained with her. An old bag with some of her only things, a small steel milk pail which she uses to gather alms, a steel cup inside the pail which clangs every time she picks up the pail, a couple of green bangles on her thin arms.
But one of the permanent possessions is the smile on her face. Her smile shows her brown stained teeth decaying but she never fails to show them on a single day. She might lose the steel pail, the green bangles or the mousy bag but never the smile. An old woman who grins and looks up at everyone when she hears a coin fall in her milk pail, not caring if she would lose her possessions, not caring if she would live the next day, not caring if one day she would disappear....she symbolizes the phrase - Live every day as if it's your last...
We employees, laborers, workers worry about the rain water in the window seat, the food that's served with unwashed hands, an old almost torn note of currency, a local train that arrives late and upsets our schedule,home that has to be developed, rain that washes away a dozen of homes, torturous summer that evaporates all the water, a love affair that might not last, a stupid cricket match not worth wasting a good night's sleep.....all the things that might perish....extinct one day. What we fail to understand is the fact that everyone has to leave one day....leave everything back and go away never to come back!
As I make a pit stop and drop a coin in the milk pail and Mr.Somebody who fills up her small steel cup with hot tea everyday arrives with a glass in hand....I wonder....
Why can't everyone be like the Old Woman on the Bridge?
A small bundle of depleted organs and unwashed clothes sitting in the corner of the landing of the bridge. She doesn't have fingers or toes on her legs....her hands and feet are just small blobs of flesh remaining after the attack of leprosy. Her face and hair is often covered with dirt not having the luxury of having a hot water bath everyday. Her soiled saree always touching the murky ground as her old back fails to support her weight as she leans down to beg for alms to every person who passes her.
She has a few possessions which have remained with her. An old bag with some of her only things, a small steel milk pail which she uses to gather alms, a steel cup inside the pail which clangs every time she picks up the pail, a couple of green bangles on her thin arms.
But one of the permanent possessions is the smile on her face. Her smile shows her brown stained teeth decaying but she never fails to show them on a single day. She might lose the steel pail, the green bangles or the mousy bag but never the smile. An old woman who grins and looks up at everyone when she hears a coin fall in her milk pail, not caring if she would lose her possessions, not caring if she would live the next day, not caring if one day she would disappear....she symbolizes the phrase - Live every day as if it's your last...
We employees, laborers, workers worry about the rain water in the window seat, the food that's served with unwashed hands, an old almost torn note of currency, a local train that arrives late and upsets our schedule,home that has to be developed, rain that washes away a dozen of homes, torturous summer that evaporates all the water, a love affair that might not last, a stupid cricket match not worth wasting a good night's sleep.....all the things that might perish....extinct one day. What we fail to understand is the fact that everyone has to leave one day....leave everything back and go away never to come back!
As I make a pit stop and drop a coin in the milk pail and Mr.Somebody who fills up her small steel cup with hot tea everyday arrives with a glass in hand....I wonder....
Why can't everyone be like the Old Woman on the Bridge?
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