I was sitting in my place listening to music, or a radio
drama, I don’t remember. A guy with a big bag walked into my place and asked me
to move in. I obliged, since everywhere else is occupied, and the seat could
host another person with some difficulty. Turned out it can’t host a third
person, especially if he is keen to hung on to his luggage so dearly. He seated
himself beside me, opened his bag and examined a pair of chappal, which looked
very small to his feet. Then he had a peek at few other things, satisfied
himself and then took a brand new school bag out of his transparent cover. Had
a satisfying look at it, kept it back inside. Meanwhile the Ticket collector
came in, asked for ticket, punched a few times into her machine, dispersed a
little change and left. Meanwhile the guy beside me took another peak into the
bag, this tie with pride and a tiny amount of doubt. He took out his phone,
called his wife, and talked to his children. One can see his broken screen
cracks across the phone meeting diametrically opposite ends in a lightening
bolt.
He took out his handkerchief, wiped his forehead, took out
his phone again, took a picture of the bag he had in his bag and sent it to his
wife. Waited for some time, and then finally talked to me, confirming if the
bus headed where he thinks its headed. After I confirmed, he seemed relaxed and
moved to a place on the other side of the bus, where he could fit his luggage
more comfortably. He then looked back at me, thanked me and wiped out his sweat
again.
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Look at the package, and the empty bag that is inside |
This clearly is a man who is returning home after a hard day
at the capital, bringing home the delicacies, essentials, requirements, and
wishes of his lovely family back home, after finishing his work. He is a gentle
man, as he looked to me.
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Here is the gentleman described above. Look at his bag |
I was at once, lost in my memories smiling back at a fine
day when I was 11, my father coming back from the city at midnight, and I fell
asleep waiting for him. Early in the morning waking up to my lost excitement,
finding a big parcel by the side of our TV stand, and eagerly opening it only
to find my mom staring at me in the early hours forbidding me from playing with
whatever was inside. I was disappointed, but while my mother turned her back on
me, I got to have a peek at what was inside which added so much to my
excitement that I didn’t want to go to school later that morning. But, I had
to. More than that I wanted to thank my dad for the thing I was asking for a
long time, and he was asleep after the night’s work and travel.
Ten days after that, I burned all those that are inside the
package. My father was smiling, my mother a little tensed I might burn myself
in the process, my excitement and fun knowing no bounds. I took out the long
thing, placed it on the ground while my father watched. Pointed it in the right
direction towards the sky, lit it with a match stick. It flew into the sky and
burst like a napalm. My eyes shone with happiness, as it was the my most
favorite fire cracker of all time, and it was Diwali time.
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