Naveen trudged ahead, heading home. His eyes were half-closed. His head hung low and his shoulders sagged. Each step was heavy and labored. To say that he was having a bad day would have been an understatement.
That morning he had arrived at work, only to learn that due to ‘financial setbacks in the economy’ his company had to let him go. Naveen felt sick in the stomach. He had collected his things and cleared up his desk by noon. There were some awkward farewell moments with friends and colleagues whom he had worked with for the past two years.
Later that afternoon, he had met Sonya, his girlfriend of three years, for coffee. Naveen really needed to unload his disappointment at losing his job to Sonya, the one person he always counted on for support. Before he could bring up the subject, Sonya took charge of the conversation and in a not-so-subtle manner unleashed another bombshell on the already battle-scarred Naveen. After much consideration, Sonya claimed, she had decided to move on from their relationship. She said her priority was her career and gave him an assortment of reasons, none of which eased the pain of the hammer blow that had been struck to his chest. Naveen started hyper-ventilating. He engaged Sonya in a brief shouting-match that inevitably follows a break-up. Then, it was over and she was gone.
So, Naveen walked one step at time on the lonely road that led to his house. There were cars honking, people talking, and all the usual hustle-bustle of Mumbai city roads. But Naveen did not notice any of this. He toyed with the circular dial of his wrist-watch. His mind was swarmed with a myriad of bitter thoughts. The hollow feeling in the pit of his belly wouldn’t go away. He wanted to cry and vomit, at the same time.
Naveen looked up at sky and let out a volley of abuses, which were very uncharacteristic of him.
“Why?” He demanded. “Why?”
Upon receiving no answer, Naveen plodded ahead.
“Kaise ho bhaiya?” A voice asked him.
Naveen saw the smiling face of the bhel-puri wallah looking at him. Naveen nodded his acknowledgement.
“Kya loge?”
“Ha, ek sev puri.” Naveen tried to smile. He usually exchanged a friendly banter with the neighborhood hawkers. But, not on that day.
Naveen took his sev puri and moved ahead. On one corner of the footpath, he saw a street kid, dressed in rags, squatting down and rubbing his eyes. When he reached closer, Naveen saw that the boy was sobbing softly. Naveen went a couple of steps ahead, and paused. He turned to look at the kid again.
There was something in that boy’s eyes that called out to Naveen. He felt some kind of connection with that unknown child. Maybe it was just the sight of another human being in pain, much like he was.
Naveen turned around and walked towards the weeping boy. He lowered himself and sat down next to him. Without a word, Naveen offered the kid a piece of his sev puri.
The scrawny boy wiped his eyes, and accepted the offer.
For the next five minutes, the two of them sat there. They shared the rest of the sev puri, but neither of them spoke.
After they had finished the last piece, Naveen noticed a number of small marbles lying on the ground next to them.
“Yeh kiske hai?” Naveen asked and pointed at the marbles.
The kid picked up a couple of marbles and grinned at Naveen. “Khelna hai?”
Naveen returned the smile and nodded.
The kid gave Naveen one shiny marble, took one himself and lined up the remaining a few feet away from them. They played a game of marbles, something Naveen hadn’t done for a very long time. Naveen had been fond of playing marbles when he was younger. That little boy proved to be an excellent player.
For the next twenty minutes, the two of them played marbles. Naveen laughed and joked with the boy. He forgot all about his job and his girlfriend. He was just a kid again, playing a game in the park, having fun. There were no barriers between Naveen and the street boy. No barriers of wealth, social status or even age. They were just two people, enjoying a simple game.
This spark is seen so often in children, but not as much in grown-ups. When we were children, we were so free and uninhibited. We played, and laughed and cried. That was when we were really alive. As we grow older, we begin to learn about the ways of the world. We understand things like money and the hierarchy of society. We build barriers around us that decide who we can or cannot be friends with. We go to work and go through the motions of our routine. Our minds are always preoccupied with some worldly concern or the other.
What kind of life is that? Are we really alive? We become mechanical in our habits and are consumed by the barrage of thousands of useless thoughts that came to our brain every minute. We are always doing things that are required of us. The economic and social demands on us increase more and more. Somewhere along the way, we forget who really are. We leave ourselves behind as we move ahead in the rat race of the modern world.
Wouldn’t it be great if we could be children again? Wouldn’t it be nice to get that spark back?
Take a moment to step back from your busy routine. Get a room or a certain time of the day, where you can just be yourself. Do the things that you love to do, the things that bring that spark in you. Play that music you like the most, even if it is corny music that no one else respects. Read that book you always wanted to read. Watch that favorite movie of yours. Dance. Take a boating trip on the open sea. Experience things that make you feel alive again and release the enthusiastic child inside you. Then you will get some intuition of who you really are.
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