A mirage or contentment

One hot afternoon, as the sun blazed overhead, I cruised along, on the near vacant roads:  a rare sight or opportunity, in the bursting-at-the- seams urban spaces. For nearly two hours, I had been out on a two-wheeler and was on the lookout for the shade of a tree to park and call a friend who lived en route. But, not a single tree that would give shade, was visible as far as the eye could see; this being one of the posh main roads, of one of the so called fast growing cities of Gujarat, that once upon a time prided itself for its large number of verdant,  robust trees.

Not meaning to feel despondent, I veered toward a scraggy looking one that was barely big enough to provide shade to a squirrel, leave alone me. Just as my irritation seemed to be mounting, I saw the most beautiful sight that made me stop dead in my tracks, despite the scorching heat.  A little ahead of me I saw a man riding a rickshaw, meant for carrying goods and not people. Well what could be beautiful about this one would wonder as one sees so many such modes of transport in our country. However, what really caught my eye was the improvised cover that he had managed to provide over the back with two bamboos bent over in a semi-circle and a saree covering the frame.

Curiosity got the better of me so I slowed down and let him overtake me. He wore a reasonably clean white, loose pyjama, kurta and a skull cap. I had the urge to click a picture, but changed my mind not wanting to intrude upon his privacy and this moment. I continued to observe as he slowed down and levitated to the same tree, scraggy as it were; that I had also seen. We somehow managed to reach the same spot simultaneously and instinctively and instantly smiled at each other; victims in our own ways of the unrelenting severe heat.

Just then, some movement at the back of his rickshaw caught my eye and I saw two little children, contentment and happiness writ large on their faces, merrily drinking water from the plastic pouches, one often sees in cities today and partaking of some sweetmeats too. Their mother, a frail, beautiful lady was in the farthest corner of this vehicle, happy just to see her little ones happy. The man wiped his brow and looked my way as I said, “It is really hot, isn't it; where are you headed?” I first thought he would interpret this overture as a weird one, but he seemed absolutely at ease and forthcoming. He informed me that he was headed to the other end of town and that was the cheapest and safest way to ferry his family across, though he would have to do double time and a double trip to deliver goods, but not once did he say it in a complaining tone. By then the two little kids at the back were trying to get a good look at me but stayed just where their mom had asked them to be, shooting coy glances my way.

It was the most beautiful sight, one that I would love to carry long in my heart, to pull me through the heat, dust and grime of life: a picture of unadulterated contentment and love, even if it is a mirage. 

For so inured are we to happiness in small things or are mindlessly involved in the pursuit of materialistic bliss that nuanced symbols of  joy, are either non-existent or  last but a blink, set aside yet again to coldly move ahead in our greed.

©Copyright Suverchala Kashyap