So it’s been a few weeks since I’ve moved to Bangalore. Slowly and steadily I’m getting a hang of the city. I’m getting used to the coffees and masala less chai(well, sort of). I’ve accepted Idli as staple breakfast till I’m here. After taking nemorous rides by uber and ola and waking around few miles, lay Sunday I decided to the unthinkable. I took the public transport!!!!. Yes, in a city where you can’t pronounce names of the areas and don’t understand a word of language of the natives, it’s quite a courageous step.😊 These journey had totally three unrelated experiences.
Mine was a transit journey. While the bus was sluggishly crawling into a Sunday traffic of this great metropolitan full of concrete jungle, one thing caught my attention. Amidst the highrise buildings and never ending housing socities, there was a small, small ground. The ground where kids were playing soccer in a little drizzle. Must have been not older than 15 any. They looked like the kids from the workers of a construction site nearby. They might have worked way too hard to want that Sunday play. They struggle everyday for survival, but at that moment, they were happy. They were living that moment.
This got me thinking. Most of us work Monday to Saturday just so that we can pay the bills. Bills are very important but as well is living. Materialistic happiness attracts us more. Once we achieve that material we run behind other and the cycle never ends. Happiness for us is getting limited to achieve tengible things. I don’t see many people now going out , dancing their heart out to the rains. A friend recently shared a message saying “don’t get so busy making a living that you forgot to live.”
My thoughts were put to a halt when the driver pulled the breaks. A man boarded the bus. Looking at him immediately made me smile. A 70 year old Sardarji. He sat next to me and immediately hit the conversation. “I’m an ex-army. I was happily living my retired life in Chandigarh. My son is settled in the US, daughter married and settled in Bangalore. Two years back we migrated here so that we could stay close to her. But, ‘pind di gal na hai’.” He spoke about how folks in Chandigarh met daily in parks to discuss any topic they liked and how it was not the same here, but he stayed for his kids. He was delighted when he learnt I stayed in Goa for 16 years. The place is special cause his kids were born there and also how there was no restrictions in past.
I was seeing life from the eyes of a 70 year old retired army officer , who also was a father and a husband and a family man. He wasn’t very happy may be about having to spend retired life in an unknown city away from home, but he made that sacrifice for his kid’s happiness. Our parents live their lives for their parents in their youth and for their kids when they grow old. If I can be even if one tenth of my parents, I’d be happy. It was time to bid goodbye to Sardarji.
And third and final thing, it’s just a myth that bechalors live a messy life. Even spinsters can be equally messy. 😂