PART # 1
There is an anxiety which never vacates the room in my heart. All the hustle-bustle on the street, the lavish cars and brightly lit showrooms showcasing the best designer wears feels so hollow. There is a time when most of the children dream of a lavish lifestyle. It is like a gleam that could be seen to have a piece of moon.The life across the bridge (a literal one known as Ellis bridge in Ahmedabad)- the glistening streets , the showrooms, expensive, unaffordable stuff all well fitted in those rooms. All for what? For us to have them or for them to define us?
I saw a mannequin wearing an expensive dress being stared by a homeless girl. Her eyes had a gleam as if telling me that somewhere in her heart she knew it was beyond her reach. She could only stare at it from the other side of the glass door. It was such a strong metaphor for people on the other side of the bridge. While they try hard to fill their stomach, they also crave for these unattainable things.
If I talk about people, all of them are busy in their own lives sparing little or no time for what’s really essential i.e, the loved ones. Old parents live in old age homes. Their children are busy earning money for cars, digital media and other luxuries but little do they have for their parents. I wish they had thought, just once, ‘What if parents put their children in foster homes?’ I am sure the answer would have sent shrivels down their spine.
People who are struggling to meet ends; people who are working for their families; people who work so much and still barely make sure that their family does not sleep empty stomach; people who have to sacrifice basic necessities at times; people whose mere survival is at stake; people who are poverty stricken. This was the story of the other side of the bridge.
I have written this just to bring out the realities of two sides of the city. What if the bridge was not just a physical connective? What if some people were able to see things beyond money? I wish these rhetorical questions are some day thought seriously about.
PART # 2
The other day I entered the classroom almost banging my bag on the bench, complaining about the poor quality of food in my hostel, the injustice a professor continued to do, the hectic schedules we were having those days and all the unreasonable things around. I remember not being able to concentrate on what the professor taught that day. As a daily habit, I went to visit somebody during the break. That special person is a teacher, a counselor, a friend, a perfectionist and the best person I had met lately. While we were talking, a pretty, young woman knocked the office door. She came in and gave the details of the behavior of her students in class, lately. She seemed quite sincere and hard-working. She spoke in fluent English. She was a new faculty member who taught English to the science students. I squinted to have a look while she was busy talking to the other person in the room. She was slender, with average height, short hair, her hair probably pinned up, beautiful eyes wearing mascara and she was casually dressed. No sooner than she left, my eyes were filled with tears. Realization and consternation struck me hard. The woman I just described was a cancer survivor. To be very honest, the charm and spark she carried somehow defeated the reality. Even her blood cancer could not screw her ambitions.She could have chosen to crib about it, she could have chosen to loose hope. She could have chosen to die, which was much easier but she chose to be brave, she chose to have faith. She fought, she survived and here she was- living her life to the fullest in spite of the circumstances. After so much struggle, she was working hard. She did not let her situations define her.
I really adored her from that moment, for whatever she was. These words are probably too less to describe her beauty. Nobody can match the beauty of a survivor. Some people leave us, may be for better and they are as beautiful because they struggle till the end. When did you last feel gratitude for your health and well-being? For the beautiful evening that you spent last time? For everything good that you have? Just few moments back, my mind was occupied with umpteen trivial issues. I gave reasons for not being able to do well instead of passion for work. I found it so hard to stop ranting about how I wasted one year of my college life by losing two or three good opportunities. All this was so immaterial, but still we let it rule our mood, our love for self, our day and our lives. Her mere appearance washed it all. She rekindled a new spirit of hope and I did not know how to thank her. She became the bridge. This bridge of inspiration, of realization was so necessary to be traveled. She helped me cross that unproductive phase which brought peace and motivation. She was a gift to me, I might say. I am sure she is doing wonders for others as well after all, life is too short to keep regrets. She is also helping other cancer patients to share their story so that they can imbibe a spirit of hope and bravery.
This new year let us all take a pledge to cross bridges. To grow together!
