Roads are travelled to reach the destiny. They are the companions who keep on walking along with the traveller, doesn't matter how short or long is the journey. But who remembers the roads at last? Its destiny only that matters. But sometimes, or many times, it gives a glimpse of life, nature and people that become moments worth keep to remember and seem like the events constituing preamble of the destiny. So, it's my journey, a short one, I am going to pen down about - An early morning walk from my home to a dairy.
Here, morning is so serene and pleasing that I always love to take morning walk to fulfill my duty of getting milk from the dairy. It's Dehradun that draws the divine air from the range of Himalayas and I love it when air strokes fondle my skin, slip down around my body and sometimes it blows my hair just like the shaking leaves on roadside trees. But today was different. My eyes went off the road and caught a glimpse to which we all are subscribe to visually but never think this way what an old man did.
Two kids, one girl and one boy, most probably siblings, were standing by road side. Their dirty clothes, uncouth look, unprivileged and deprived luck keep them ignorant from our eyes. They are the one who don't have destiny, they just live by roadside. Unlucky kids! Poor slumdogs, smiling for a mysterious reason.
I stopped for a moment when I saw that old man in his 70s, who was walking with his stick, climbed down the road, walked towards the kids and did something awesome. I am an observer but never observed so intensely what an 70 years old man's spectacled eyes caught. He imagined the possibility of civilization in their attire when they effortlessly draw one's attention towards their empty stomachs and gloomy fortunes. He buttoned the boy's shirt and tied the girl's frock laces before giving them a gentle smile. A smile on my face was inevitable while thoughts emerged out in my head. 'Don't they have right of being well dressed?' The thoughts thickened as I walked pass the kids and reached the dairy. Then, in a hurry of getting milk, I removed all the thoughts saying to myself - 'Apna apna bhagya' and asked the shopkeeper- 'Bhaiya, give me one liter milk. Full cream.' Then suddenly I realized that I was purchasing something precious that doesn't feel costly to me but the nude reality of their luck I was aware of. They don't have even a drop of milk in their morning breakfast. Do they really have break fast? Let alone the milk.
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I walked back to my home and thanked God for making me privileged. I thought of my childhood, mom getting me ready for school, preparing my breakfast, stirring bournvita in my milk and preparing my tiffin.
I smiled, laden down with sympathy for the kids, at the thought that I would still be having bournvita milk in my breakfast platter when I am now full grown up. I looked up and again thanked the one hidden behind the blue sky.
Note- It's not my story/ observation. It was told to me as a summery and some background. I might have exaggerated or put my ideas or imagination, I don't know. But I found it interesting to put it here and share it with you. Thank you.
