I was strolling my way back from UCSD after a not so productive day of work. Walking silently, listening to Jagjit Singh pouring his mellifluous sonority through my ears, I almost failed to notice a voice which seemed to be calling me. I had just crossed an intersection and the voice seemed to be coming from behind. I turned to notice a car stopped at the intersection (it was not a red light, just a stop sign) and a lady waving at me. Thinking that she needed some directions, I approached the passenger's window of the car and removed my earphones to help her with the directions to whichever place she might have wanted to go.
Lady: Are you from India ?
Me: Yes.
That was how it all started. A conversation between 2 perfect strangers which lasted for half an hour in the middle of a road. For each of those 30 minutes, she sat in the driver's seat, I stood beside the passenger's window, her car's engine kept burning gas and other drivers had to maneuver their ways around her car. She seemed to be in her early thirties, gracefully dressed in a black dress with an overcoat and quiet charming in her overall demeanour. I enquired whether she had ever been to India when she asked me about my specific origins and seemed to know where places like Lucknow, Kanpur, Agra are. It turned out that she was married to an Indian guy and had been in India for about a month in 2005. At this point of time I started thinking if all of this was getting too personal for either's comfort but what followed really swept me from my feet. She started by lamenting that her husband (I think his name was Shobhit from what I could make out) had asked her to come to India but she couldn't really move so he had left her for good. He had married again in India. She on the other hand still felt deeply for him and regularily kept checking for his well being in India even after 2 years of his going back. She said that all she wanted was his happiness and that she, after all these years, had started giving up on those cherished times they had together. I am not really an emotional person, but this really made me feel very sad for her. Here was a lady who obviously loved her husband but now all the contact she has with him are weekly phone calls maybe. On top of that she knows that he has remarried but a faint, continuously dimming hope is still evident in her eyes. She is trying to laugh but her laughter is not able to hide the fact that she is really sad. On more than one occassions, I distinctly detected signs of her almost breaking down and on each of those occassions she tried a fake laugh and reprimanded herself for sharing too much with a stranger. She told me all about her husband's home in Ranchi, his relatives, the places they had been to, the Saris she had tried, the bangles she had worn, Taj Mahal, his mother's religious nature, the hot weather, the spicy food, her broken hindi, some salutations in Urdu etc.
Generally, I am not at all comfortable with strangers and it would be wrong to say that I was comfortable at that intersection. I wanted to leave but she was so engrossed in her past world that breaking her innocent trance almost seemed like a crime to me. I stood there, nodding my head in silent approval, indicating that I was sorry at whatever she had been through, listening to her excitedly talking about her little memories. I waited for the time she gave me permission to leave and left her hoping that she overcomes her situation and that no other Indian is born again with such a cold and possibly vile heart as Shobhit.
Lady: Are you from India ?
Me: Yes.
That was how it all started. A conversation between 2 perfect strangers which lasted for half an hour in the middle of a road. For each of those 30 minutes, she sat in the driver's seat, I stood beside the passenger's window, her car's engine kept burning gas and other drivers had to maneuver their ways around her car. She seemed to be in her early thirties, gracefully dressed in a black dress with an overcoat and quiet charming in her overall demeanour. I enquired whether she had ever been to India when she asked me about my specific origins and seemed to know where places like Lucknow, Kanpur, Agra are. It turned out that she was married to an Indian guy and had been in India for about a month in 2005. At this point of time I started thinking if all of this was getting too personal for either's comfort but what followed really swept me from my feet. She started by lamenting that her husband (I think his name was Shobhit from what I could make out) had asked her to come to India but she couldn't really move so he had left her for good. He had married again in India. She on the other hand still felt deeply for him and regularily kept checking for his well being in India even after 2 years of his going back. She said that all she wanted was his happiness and that she, after all these years, had started giving up on those cherished times they had together. I am not really an emotional person, but this really made me feel very sad for her. Here was a lady who obviously loved her husband but now all the contact she has with him are weekly phone calls maybe. On top of that she knows that he has remarried but a faint, continuously dimming hope is still evident in her eyes. She is trying to laugh but her laughter is not able to hide the fact that she is really sad. On more than one occassions, I distinctly detected signs of her almost breaking down and on each of those occassions she tried a fake laugh and reprimanded herself for sharing too much with a stranger. She told me all about her husband's home in Ranchi, his relatives, the places they had been to, the Saris she had tried, the bangles she had worn, Taj Mahal, his mother's religious nature, the hot weather, the spicy food, her broken hindi, some salutations in Urdu etc.
Generally, I am not at all comfortable with strangers and it would be wrong to say that I was comfortable at that intersection. I wanted to leave but she was so engrossed in her past world that breaking her innocent trance almost seemed like a crime to me. I stood there, nodding my head in silent approval, indicating that I was sorry at whatever she had been through, listening to her excitedly talking about her little memories. I waited for the time she gave me permission to leave and left her hoping that she overcomes her situation and that no other Indian is born again with such a cold and possibly vile heart as Shobhit.
4 comments:
Ah !! So the ice thaws too !!
But I must admit that I was rather disappointed that you for once got carried away by emotion, especially considering how clinical you can get. Because all that you heard was her version of the story and no one can judge a issue unless you hear both sides of the story .Innocent unless proved otherwise.
But to give her the credit, circumstantial evidence does indeed point to the conclusion you made. But look at the fact that in spite of all this she still has no bitterness against India or Indians despite the fact that she inherits the American Culture that you so much deride.
bachcheeeee .. man ke sachcheeeee
Saarri duniyaa ke aankh ke tareee! haha
Hey...I recall almost the same incient when I was travelling by the train in London. But here the story was different. The lady told me about her neighbour who killed herself along with her two little kids after being left by the guy who was from Punjab. Nobody could ever trace the guy who came to London on false passport.
Man, I was really crying and even said sorry to her .
@Anurup: I don't deride the American culture in its entirety. Just some of its aspects. Nevertheless, I guess you are right and I should not judge the man from one side of the story and I should better keep grips on my emotions from now onwards :)...
@Amit: next article on American materialism in the pipeline. Lets see how you can challenge pure logic :)...
@Devendra: you win (although its not a win loss scenario). your story is much more gruesome than mine. seems like Indians have a reputation and some respect to salvage :)...
Post a Comment