Life's amusing games -- Part 1

When was the last time you remembered a stranger? To say it in other words, we regularly meet strangers in a lot of situations -- while traveling in buses and trains, while standing in a queue, while waiting for someone. How many of them we remember? And still bigger question is -- how long do we remember them? Sometimes an hour, sometimes a day, months, years... And sometimes a lifetime.

What would you say about a stranger you met two years back in a very different setting and then again at some other place. No big deal, right? But I had done something wrong in the first meeting which made me remember him for the next 2 years. I regretted my actions that day. And for the next 2 years. Till November '08.

Because by a quirk of fate, I met the same person at Xpressions 2008!!!

And it started in my mind the small incident that had happened two years ago.

It was a cold November night of 2006. I was sitting at the Bhubaneswar railway station waiting for my train to arrive. The third week of November always rings a bell in an enigineer's mind. Yes, it was CAT time. I had come to take the CAT exam at Bhubaneswar from my college UCE, Burla situated 5 hours away. It was my first CAT and it did leave me dejected and irritated after I screwed it up big time.

So I didn't even look at the person when he said if I could remove my bag so that he can sit. I acted as if I hadn't listened. I was busy cursing myself for leaving some easy questions.

He must have waited for 2-3 minutes before asking me again. I lifted my head up and looked at him. A short heighted dark man in his mid twenties. No luggage in hand. Only a polythene bag containing some food. I don't know why but the first impression I got about him was not positive. The wrinkled shirt he was wearing and the black school shoes he wore looked cheap. As if he was trying to make people believe that he looked decent. There were seats available at other places in the platform also. There was no point in cramming into the small territory I had secured. I had always heard of thugs who first come and sit near you, then make up a story and start a gossip with you and the moment you become complacent and try to steal a nap, you find your luggage stolen.

One peculiar thing I noticed was that he was not looking at me, but looking straight. I grudgingly moved my bag off and let him sit near me.

"I am blind". He said.

So that was it. My predictions were correct. He had begun a nice story. The sob part was about to begin.

I didn't reply. His eyes did look a bit abnormal though. What if I was wrong? No way! these people are experts at anything.

"I am blind"

"Oh really?", I said, sarcastically.

He nodded.

"And how did you get blind?"

He said nothing. Nothing for a minute.

"I am going for a blind school event at Rourkela", he said, changing the topic.

"What will you do there?"

"We have been taught some art. We will display it."

I said nothing.

"We are 10 of us. My friends are sitting at the other end. Hopefully the train will reach early morning tomorrow. Then we will..."

"Please give me a break, mate. I am reading a novel." I said rudely, interrupting him. Man! why was he telling me all this. Why should I care where he was going? I took out Five point Someone from my bag and started reading.

Silence again. For a few minutes more. He took out the food from his polythene bag and started eating.

"Can you help me a bit"

Help. Wow! I am listening man. Spill your guts.

"Can you please escort me to the drinking water?"

Nice plan, thought I. I take him to the drinking water and one of his accomplices helps himself with my luggage. I could not even take the whole of my luggage with me. This man had started to irritate me.

I simply showed him the direction to the drinking water facility.
"Just go straight", I said, pushing him towards the facility.

He started moving slowly away from me.

Thank god! Just don't make him return again.

I started reading my book.

It must have been 10-15 minutes when he came again.

"Can you please help me again?"

I looked at him angrily.

"Can you please read me a chapter of this book?" He said, taking out a crumpled volume of Premchand's stories translated in English from his trouser pocket.

Now this was a bit too much.

"See, is there some problem with you? Why are you coming here again and again. If you can't read the book why are you holding it? Just go and sit wherever your friends are sitting." There was everything in my tone -- anger, frustration, desperation.

He recoiled. An expression of sadness crossed his face for once.

"Sorry sir! My teacher used to read the chapters to me. He's not with us today. That's why I was asking. Sorry again sir?"

And he started retreating with slow steps. He walked with the rustiness of a person who cannot see -- cautiously, avoiding collisions with obstacles.

In a few moments he was lost from my view.

I don't know why but I felt a churning in my stomach. Some strings had been pulled in my heart. I was shaken out of my cynicism.

"Why did I behave like that?", I thought.

He was blind and he tried to relate himself with people like me, who could see the world. But he was not aware that there are people who have shutters over their eyes. He was blind by not his choice, but I had become blind by my choice.

I was filled with guilt. I wanted to meet him again. I wanted to read him a whole book. I wanted to say him sorry.

My train arrived after some time. There started the journey of my guilt which remained with me for two years.

Till Xpressions 2008.