Poessay: Rosary 6 - Dinner In The Park

Our new friends had invited us for dinner in an open-air restaurant in a Delhi suburb set around a deer park. We had just concluded the first leg of a long tour. Our hosts asked us if there was any interesting experience we had that we could share with them. In a flash the past two weeks buzzed by, all the buildings, homes, temples, palaces, museums that we had visited.

Narrated this story about a chance encounter with a mechanic in a small dusty town in the south with whom had locked glances for barely a part of a second.

We were returning from Kanchipuram to Chennai. Our tour bus was threading its way through open fields and small and big towns on its way back.

While passing by this obscure nondescript town, looking out the window saw this fellow, no more than 40-45 who wore a dirty sweaty sleeveless vest, sitting on a three legged chair, balancing himself on his good leg, a crutch was hanging from the ceiling, slightly swinging and casting a MacGuffian shadow on the wall beside. His oily face was glistening under the glare of the lone electric bulb.

He was staring ahead as flies buzzed around him but he did not flex any muscles to shoo them off. The lack of any expression on his face, the utterly devoid of life look was something that left an indelible mark on me.

The passionate silence that enveloped our table as I narrated this was magical.  In another era we could be have been sitting around a camp fire and narrating tales from Qissa-e-Chahar Darvesh or Dastaan-e-Amir Hamza.

Here was this fellow, alive and oblivious to life. Any zest for living was missing from his demeanor. It was apparent he was not an urchin or a beggar. It is so easy to be one in India. Obviously, he had pride, resiliency and drive that motivated him enough to earn his keep. Yet that blank look struck a chord in those few moments as our bus passed by in front of his shop.

This man barely existed. It did not appear as if he looked forward to anything in life. Nor did he look like he wanted to end his life. It was as if some remote controller was pressing buttons and he was obeying those commands. A living robot destined to play out his part in a cosmic play.

The food arrived and the discussion moved onto Kanchipuram saris.

In pensive moods I think about this mechanic's life. How could one revel in mediocrity? Perhaps these are harsh words. Who knows he may have tried -  he must have. Those blank looks in his eyes must have held love and affection once. And hope, anger,
frustration, and hatred.

We would never know.

Earlier:
Poessay: Rosary 1 - Pink Sand Beach
Poessay: Rosary 2 - Fishing
Poessay: Rosary 3 - Adam and Eve Limited - I
Poessay: Rosary 4 - Adam and Eve Limited - II
Poessay: Rosary 5 - Descending