For the smile that never left my face
One gloomy evening, overcast by melancholic clouds,
suffering from the dullness of a vacant computer screen,
and the stale conditioned air in my office space,
I went out to the balcony, to fill my lungs with fresh air,
and to reinvigorate my weary brain with fresher musings.
The indoors were suffocating,
outside, even in bustling city life, one can find solace,
for nature’s charm, though little, flows in any open space with a vast blue sky,
And I badly needed her therapy,
for my bout of the melancholy felt bitter and bordered gloom.
Out in the balcony, I took a few deep breaths,
and attempted to rejuvenate my mind with warmer thoughts.
I persisted mechanically to stay in the present,
wishing to hear a lullaby of the birds.
Since I can only dream of Mynas and Cuckoos in the city streets,
Crows were the best nature could provide, and for their cries, I gave my ears;
but she too was outplayed by the honking cars around.
In the air also, I felt the invisible dirt, of puffing cars, smoking and spitting—
they penetrated my lungs and began to suffocate my already irritated body.
Soon a flurry of thoughts followed — vague streams of consciousness.
My life, my purpose, my regrets, my future, my wishes, my fear —
they all jumbled in my cluttered mind and let out muddled thoughts.
Lost in them, I looked around to see the chaos I was part of —
thousands rushing the city streets, their grief, and greed.
I saw a million cubicles ahead and felt a million lives struggling inside —
cages, chains, suffocation, pain, death — I could see and feel it all.
In my own world, when I was drowning in those flurry of thoughts,
I hardly noticed an old lady sitting silently in the terrace across.
She, a sweeper in that building, was catching some breath during her short break,
me, a white-collar professional, stood across her, at the liberty of taking unlimited breaks at my will.
She, old and tired, facing the real problems of the world, of hunger, shelter and survival,
Me, young and lazed, facing a superficial existential crisis that’s hardly worth any sympathy.
Long after I traversed my perceived gloom and doom of the city life,
my eyes met her, and I found in her a world I can’t comprehend.
Was she sad, or was I reflecting my sadness in her?
In her eyes, I felt a residue of grief that she had long overcome through a stubborn will.
Life could have been cruel to her — maybe she is lonely and is grieving deep inside.
She may have exhausted all her vigor and has now surrendered to the hopeless doom.
Or that was all in me while she was calmly gliding through her life’s dusk.
But I reserved my sympathies for her, for I feared for my life when I placed me in her shoes,
I imagined her life, her struggles, and wondered what made her survive that life,
what does she expect from it, what motivates her to keep breathing?
And then, in those lifeless eyes, I felt a longing for love, maybe the need for an affectionate smile,
or was it me who hadn’t smiled for long and was craving for a smile from her.
My soul whispered to let out a smile, a beacon of light, a signal to her to say life’s alright.
I looked straight at her, with an intent to smile and met with her eyes,
I searched deep inside me for a happy pulse to generate that welcoming smile.
But my body betrayed me, and there I stood, dead cold, with no empathy in my eyes,
no smile blossomed there, no warmth burned in me strong enough to penetrate her heart.
In those few moments of intense stare, maybe we exchanged a few fragments of our struggles,
but did nothing to satiate that deep-lying pain. Like strangers looking into strange voids,
our eyes met, stared, broke contact, and left forever from each other’s life.
A genuine heartfelt smile from me would have done wonders to raise her spirits,
but no! Smiling to strangers is a cardinal sin in these modern days.
