Life at the centre of the crowd

Have you ever stood beside a busy road teeming with traffic?

Have you ever looked closely as a mob of strangers passes by, going about their lives completely oblivious to your existence?

You will never set your eyes on some of them again, while many others will whizz past you every day and it would still not matter.

There is a small boy balanced precariously on the lap of an elder, his face all scrunched up, as he tries to make the best of whatever small space he has been allotted, while trying to shield his eyes from the sun. He is waiting eagerly, for this journey to end, simultaneously longing to become old enough to command a seat of his own in this small family car catering to the 8 members of this middle class family.

Suddenly our eyes meet. He seems curious, as he momentarily sidelines his discomfort and smiles at me. I look away as the old Maruti 800 speeds past.

I scourge around for my next target.

There is a seemingly well-to-do and successful gentleman sitting in the back of a Honda City obviously being driven around by his underpaid driver. The driver doesn’t seem to complain, or perhaps he doesn’t have a choice.

A small girl is being driven back home by her mother from her school on the Activa. She seems happy. It reminds me of the school days. Suddenly, an unruly biker scares her by his excessively loud honking. Her mother is way too experienced to let that affect her as she nods her head disapprovingly and moves out of the way. The girl spots me in the midst of the crowd and looks on quizzically as they too speed past me.

The children are more aware and observant than the elders.

After a minute or two, an old man, pushing his laari selling nuts halts in front of me, out of breath from roaming around in the scorching sun. He looks on expectantly at the crowd on the bus-stop, his gaze lingering over me a moment longer, what with me staring at him.

I look away, again.

I am hygiene conscious.

That is a polite way of stating that I don’t consider what he sells or eats as edible.

I make a silent vow to help such people once I start earning on my own. Deep inside, a part of me doubts the sincerity of that commitment.

The old man looks around, sighs, and resumes his unending journey.

Suddenly a crowd of people starts converging onto the main road. The bus has arrived. Thus, ends another uneventful day in the life of India.

Ambition, Prosperity, Flexibility, Poverty and above all, Indifference. That is India for you.