The sharp turn that the bus took had just woken him up partially and cool wind splashing against his face was coaxing him to open his eyes and look at the beautiful surroundings. Slowly he sensed the changes that had undergone in his immediate environment. His legs that had been relaxed suddenly seemed cramped for space. His arms could no longer move freely. With slight irritation he looked around himself. The empty bus that he had boarded was quite full now.A huge bag was placed next to his legs. He looked around questioningly to find its owner. "It's mine", said the young guy seated next to him. The guy seemed to be from city and didn't really seem to belong to the bus. Just as he was making these observations he realised that the young guy wasn't really alone and that he had probably just interrupted an important conversation that he was having. The youth started again, "You won't understand it,Chhotu. I don't like the work anymore. It has become mundane and does not offer me any more challenges.I have to find something more challenging." He gave a sharp look at the youth seated opposite to him. The conversation between the boys slowly faded into the background and what he could hear was a similar echo in his own ears: voice of his past.
Some thirty years back he had similar vigour and fire. Ever since he remembered he wanted to join the army. Many from his village had sacrificed their lives for the country. They were his heroes and he dreamed that one one day he would be a hero too...
His body failed his dreams. He couldn't clear the physical exams to which he was subjected. He tried every other possible area where he could be a hero: Police, fire brigade, but somehow he could never join them. Finally he joined a security agency and started working as a security guard. Initially the charm of the gun given to him made him feel important. But all these years he never had to use a gun. For some years he was posted at a bank. He dreamed of the days, when some bank robbery would be attempted and he would be the one to foil it. But nothing like this happened. But as he aged, he was shifted to a housing society. Now he didn't even have a gun. The area was quite peaceful. He did the daily chores like switching the building lights, water pump,etc. He maintained a register for any outsider.But this wasn't his idea of being heroic. With all these thoughts running through his head,he didn't realise that the bus had reached the bus stand. The two boys had already got down. He picked up his luggage and slowly walked to the building where he was working. When he was home, he had almost started missing this building and the people living here. But now that he was back he just did not have the same enthusiasm any more. Just as he placed his luggage and was getting ready to sit on his regular seat he saw the old lady living on the third floor. As she saw him, her face lighted. She rushed to him, as fast as she could. She started speaking excitedly,"You are finally back…good. Your replacement was useless. A salesman reached my doorstep in the afternoon. I was so scared. Now I can be relieved." And her face did really reflect the peace of mind that he had rendered. He smiled at her, but more than that, he smiled at himself; a reassuring smile.
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This story got structured as I was visiting a bank recently and saw an elderly security guard with a rifle in his hand. And I wondered whether he was happy doing what he did. I don't agree with everything I have written above. I don't think one should always be satisfied with what one has, one should always challenge one's potential...blah blah blah, and everything else that is written in millions of self help books available in the market today. But rather I want to stress that many a times in the race to achieve, succeed or challenge, we tend to miss the good and simple things that we do everyday. They may not be mighty or heroic, but it is still creditable that you do them. Rather than explaining what I am trying to say here, I think the lines from this Billy Joel song ('Vienna waits for you') capture my thoughts the best:
Though you can see when you're wrong,
You can't always see when you're right
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4 comments:
lovely post manasi! pahila mhanje story lihinyachi style avadli ani tyatli concept tar avadlich!
tula asa nahi ka vatat ki halli "being the best in this ruthless, competitive world" ya prakarnaat apan nusta aaspaas chya lokanshi changla vagayla dekhil visrun jaato! kiti chotishi goshta ahe... pan mahatvachi. your post made me think of so many little things that i ought to do every single day and yet have not in a long time. thanks!
very nice...
“Nearly everything you do is of no importance, but it is important that you do it” - Mahatma Gandhi.
The guard at the ATM will remain unsung. But then, even a war-hero is ultimately forgotten. Time obscures everyone and everything. What really lingers is the difference that one made in one's lifetime, by one's deeds, however small. It is people's deeds that build the future, and even if the details are obscure and too many, if people's deeds were different, the future would be different...
Good post ! Liked the story very much and some pondering over what message is being conveyed.Most of us are always in comparison mode and hence enjoyment cease to exist for long as there is always something better to achieve/do than what we do. Tough to draw a line between when to be satisfied and when not....
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