Monday, May 13, 2013

Homecoming (II)



That morning was nothing different. He left for work as usual, dragged himself onto the train, mumbling his prayers. Now this, I think, is interesting. He was not a theist, in fact he detested such questions which measured is faith in God or religion. But, inadvertently, whenever he was not busy talking to someone, he was busy with his prayers. Of course not the ones where he sought something from the Almighty - he was too poor to think that prayers could turn wishes into reality - but simply uttering names of all deities he knew of. Sometimes, humming and at other times, brazenly, trying to take as many names as possible, and as fast. Stations were milestones for this exercise. Crowds rushing in at the 100th, continuing till the air got stinky at 615th. He got down at the 1000th name. Clockwork precision.

Now a sweeper’s job is not really exciting, and he knew it. Few sights in this world can be more appalling than an abused toilet, and that was his bread and butter. But unlike his other, more venerated, colleagues (read, the dramatis personae) from work, he did not complain, not about his job, at least. The theater was one of the most popular ones in the city. Somehow, he thought, the patrons were not. He used to stand at the door that led to the staging area, sneaking a peek into all performances. A few months into this job and he was already a popular figure among his “peers”. This began with his complaints about those “petty” actors, who were almost always “over the top” with their acting, and on to the writers, “consistently under-performing  doing injustice to that stage”. Thanks to his toilet job, and his complaints, we know what was going to change his life.

As he stepped into the theater, he overheard them talking. Greeted them with a smirk and the rest was business as usual. It was the first screening of that popular play in his city. While the troupe was amateur, it somehow managed to get in a big name as the lead actor. He caught a glimpse of the company rehearsing on the stage, paused for moment, rejected the idea and moved on. If there is no woman in there, that is no play to me, no artistry to me, he thought. Later in the day, he was cleaning the toilet floor, when the writer and the actor barged in, the actor whistling and the writer explaining to him some scene, something about the idea of happiness.

You know, when I see those kids waving at the planes in the sky, what strikes me most is that despite knowing that they are probably never going to take that ride, and that no one on that plane would even be noticing them, forget about waving back, they can’t hold back their excitement. This to me is unbridled joy. In fact, I have been fortunate enough to have taken a flight, many of them, and still, when I hear the rumbling of an airplane, I look up to find where that thing is. I still rejoice when I see a smoke trail in the sky, knowing that something just cut the sky into two for me.”

The actor continued whistling, and callously cut the writer short.

“Give me something meaningful…these words of yours don’t carry enough weight for an actor like me.”

Why is it that fuckwits still get the most of this world, he thought to himself. That phrase sounded beautiful to him, the way that writer expressed something so ordinary into something that was so “philosophical”. From trying to find his reflection on the floor, and miserably failing, he entered a different territory, finding things which were much more valuable to him than his outline on the broken tiles of that toilet. He started seeing a smiling wife when he leaves for work, the lit-up face of his daughters greeting him when he comes back and the eagerness with which they wait for Saturday evenings. He saw a plate of delectable sweets, a relaxed Sunday morning, the thousand bucks he received every month and his “glorious” past. Amidst all this, the small matter of a broken outline on the floor signaled the end of his chore. He could not help himself from smiling, and trying to find that smile in his reflection.


-----------------------------------------------------------------


Half past seven. At least two hours before he could find peace.

No comments: