STREET STROLL

I believe that we writers are basically a bunch of starving souls. We constantly look around and this is surely in the search for some material to work on. ‘Street’ in this manner is one wonderful place. At least 5 or 6 times a week I  set my foot in motion and proceed as a pedestrian.”This variety is beauty”. The need is just to analyse and understand the same, then absorb it and draw colourful conclusions. A busy street has rushing people, for God has planned a steady and robust routine life for people. Verily do I fear my soul, if there will be the absence of this “struggle for survival”, the unstressed mind of people will be employed against one another and thus rightly I fear the consequences. The globe will turn out to be no less of a war arena. Such contemplation are vicious in their character and its better to direct every action of ours, against it. 

Coming back to the street, the other day, I was walking midst my favourite market, with wide open eyes in order not to skip anything important or rather interesting, happening around. I was at a distance of almost 20 feet and I noticed the monotonous presence of the innocent looking lady, who sits by the outer wall of the mosque. I needed a pause in order to explain her beauty in simplicity. Veiled in innocence, hiding to its best the harsh reality and circumstances gripping her. 

She has a fine but weared out basket and when one goes to take a look inside, to a persons great surprise there are pinkish eggs arranged in the layers of hay. She sits there on a rug with faded colours which surely is no match to the bright colours of her glowing face. Further more, she sells some vegetables too. 

Every time when some known person to her, passed by, the compassionate greetings and blessings she bestows them with, is really heart touching and this makes me realise that she really ought be at her home; for she is such a homely lady and a motherly figure. She in herself is an epitome  of compassion and peace and a great preacher in herself. 

This time I got to see one another manifestation of her compassion, rather it was a practical one than the contemplation and introspections I had been having about her. As soon I reached the turn from where she is visible and marked her presence, it was a day with rain occurring at intervals but she had no water repelling means. People passing by were in more haste than usual in order to escape their interaction with the droplets. From the inside of the  mosque an old man came out on two supporting arms, he probably was a beggar, soon he came out, his foot slipped, supporting arms lost control and he fell down over the wet ground and to add, all the coins from his pocket fell down spreading on a vast domain. seeing him slip, within the fraction of a second, she rose to his risque, picked him up, restored his supporting arms and with so much of concern cleaned his clothes. She was the only one in the busy street who possessed this much of gut. Next she with her white but wrinkled and dry hands set herself on the task of floor and one by one collected all the coins and filled his pocket again. Then she helped him on walk until he assured her that he was absolutely fine. 

Then she went again back to her position behind the basket of pinkish eggs and veggies. She sat back in her innocent position as if she had done nothing good. this was her concern for a stranger, i wish each one of us would have been like her but to the great folly of my thought, it is not so. The majority was running and no1 afforded to give five minutes rather to the of humanity. If we all, load our operating systems with some sensitivity, how beautiful a society will be in our possession! Happiness lies in the act of kindness and not absolutely in materialistic pursuits. I wonder when and how we have changed the definitions of virtues and filled it with the junk of negativity?! The matter doesn’t end here with this humane lady, actually it never does nor will it; mark its end at all positivity witnessing this, the happy me, proceeded. by now I reached a market place with a lot of fisher-women. Theirs is a lifestyle pretty much rough and vulgar, this much I knew. Two of them sitting side by side were talking well, in fact to my nervous message they were having fun; chatting. Sitting in relaxed positions with a number of baskets carrying fish and inescapable of their existence, each one sitting with her hukka. Then one remark stuck offensive to another and they began to fight. The tone deepened, so did the gestures and I could feel their crossing of the limits. They were known to one another, neighbours in their vicinity and formerly were on friendly terms. Meanwhile every passerby looked at them, noticed them and bestowed them with strange reactions,yet no difference in their attitudes could i mark. It surely was an extended act and such is the nature of all inhumane acts. I wonder to the best of my capacity the benefit or mere consequence of the latter case. The two un-veiled all the curtains of shame but what they derived?! I wonder is there some latent kind of peace and tranquility in such human acts? certainly not. It is the folly of the human soul to indulge in such activities. The globe needs peace and so do its inhabitants, yet people indulge in such activities and spread chaos. Can we not pause for a moment and keep quiet and introspect?! Its only in the moment of silence that we can realise the beauty and need of peace and humaneness. The victory of survival is certainly over the head of the former lady who is an epitome of love and care and not in the vicious attitude if the latter. The latter are only polluting their minds, souls, spirits and the surroundings too but the seeds of kindness attain the maturity of grass and thus is enough to explain the need and beauty of a humane attitude. 

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