Life is such an eventful journey. Look at it from different corners, it will show you different stories. It will introduce to a new side of living and if a part of that life is occupied in a long regular journey, consider yourself fortunate.
Travelling the same roads everyday for an hour can be dull and mundane. You either try to read a book or if you are really tired you try to take a power nap- rate of success….. debatable. Nonetheless these are parts of your life. Same is the story of my life- take a train travel for one long hour to reach your university. Yes I do complain. Sometimes I am at the end of my wits but then again I do not have much of a choice.
But life being life surprises you in the most unpredictable ways. Local trains are famous for their assembly of diverse hawkers. These people are colourful in their own ways. They lead a life of extreme hardship…. a hand few have a concrete roof to live under. These hawkers are the spark of life in local trains. Without their calls you will lose all interest in such long journeys.
As for me being an unemployed penniless student, I prefer observing them most of the time. The way they display their items is an entertainment in itself. Actually I sometimes feel big advertising agencies could take ideas from them.
Sometimes in life there are these incidents which will make you believe in magic. This other day when I was going to the university the usual busy scene of a busy day was there. People sitting or standing all around the compartment and the hawkers were doing their regular job of selling different items. Then from a certain station a man boarded the train.
When I could see him properly I saw that he was trembling violently. Initially I thought that probably he ran a long way to catch the train. Then I noticed that he kept on shaking for several minutes which struck me. But he neither asked for help not for a seat, so I did not pay much of attention. After some minutes he took out a flute from his jhola (jhola is a side bag – the term is generally used in Bengali). That is when he genuinely attracted my attention.
Taking the flute to his lips he started playing it. First it felt as if noises were coming out, then after a few such blows came out the melody. A high pitched melody, that struck the cords of my heart. He played the popular songs like ‘tomae hrid majhare rakhibo’ ‘bhenge mor ghorer chabi’. He looked at no one; with his eyes closed he leaned against a seat to control his trembling and kept on playing. My mouth fell open as I saw his efficiency, as I witnessed his dedication. That is how he earns a living. After playing for a while, with much difficulty he walked towards the passengers—some people did give him money, some did not.
When he came towards me I handed him a 10 rupees note. He could not stretch his hand to take the money, he indicated towards a pocket in his jhola. I dropped the money (wish I could give a little more). I asked him how long he played.
With much difficulty he said that he had been playing for long and fell silent. I stared at him as he was counting the years. Then with confidence he said it is almost twenty-five years. I asked him if he was self trained. The answer came as an assertion though he also said he did follow some others at times. Then he said he had been a patient of Parkinson disease for a long time and therefore finds it hard to play due to shortage of breathe. After this short conversation he resorted to his work—that was his livelihood after all. I was actually distracting him in his busy schedule. He left and I stood there with a smile and a drop of tear.
I do not know if I will ever meet him again but this man came to me as a life lesson. He is an example of how to take the lead of life instead of giving up. He could easily sit at some corner of a desolated station, giving up all hopes in life and stay immersed in drugs. But he chose otherwise – he chose to face life. He is an inspiration.
Note: Image is only for representational purposes.
