Simple things

An incident I'd like to share, just in passing.

Yesterday I was standing next to a seat in the bus, where an old man (he looked ninety years old) in a ragged shawl was sitting. At a stop an old lady, also bent and hobbling and in a ragged sweater, came and stood next to me. The man looked up, and balancing himself on his stick to get up, said- "आइये अम्मा बेठ जाईये". She protested, and he said warmly- "इतना तो मैं कर ही सकता हूँ", and hobbled past. A girl of my age-group sat in front. Her attention was elsewhere as she talked on her phone. 

Unable to offer any help from my end, I tapped her shoulder, and as soon as she saw the elderly gent next to her, she smiled and got up. "बहुत मेहेरबानी", he said, as he accepted and settled down.

Quite energising, to see such pockets of the world, who have happiness growing from inside them.

What just happened?

All kinds of things happen in my city's buses. Those levitating buses with huge seats that really aren't suitable for our overpopulated country... they leave a nice giddy feeling in my head if I've traveled too much in them in a day.
That's one of the places where I've learnt that common sense is uncommon- the way people shift to let you through. Or maybe there really isn't space.
Anyway, so there was this guy today, who parks himself on the huge space on top of a front tyre- one of my favorite spots in these new buses actually. He leans back, and to my initial disbelief- zips up so comfortably as if nobody's around. The bus had few people today, and was nice and spacious. But thankfully there were people sitting in front of me, and I hoped he couldn't see me staring.
Crazy things happen. I would never doubt.

Bribe?

Passing by on a motorbike in heavy traffic- "pata nahi kiski baaton mein aa gayi hai- paisa khaya kya kia..."

Amongst flowers

Was scouting around in the garden at my boss's house (he works from home), trying to shovel out some good photographs of the buds this spring. After ages I felt the joy of falling on my knees in the mud, getting my hands dirty by this mud and not the grease of public bus handles. Mrs. Boss came and sat in a folding chair while I composed, displaced rose pots and figured out axes. 
As I picked up the pot, it felt the same weight as maybe, a two-yr old. Which reminds me, I have a 3yr old niece. Like you have to be nearer a phone tower to hear better on your cellphone, you need to be near her parents to hear what she says. Till she gets familiar with you of course. And my 8yr old-- till the age of 2 she was a silent observer and quietly naughty, and though everyone around got worried that she didn't talk, I knew there would come a time when people would wish they hadn't wished what they had, and that time sort of came. She talks, and talks, and sooo many questions... I love such kids. In fact, I like such grown ups as well. It's like this circulatory cellphone message I just got- friendship with a flower makes you fragrant, friendship with rain soaks you, friendship with the sun burns you. Whom one is amongst matters so much. And a balance in one's company matters so much.