There are perks of landing a job, financial independence, the idea of working on a challenge, which can be frustrating as well as incredibly satisfying, prospects of meeting new people on the job and the tons of learning.
But now, I also look forward to my ride back home. Off late I’ve been commuting long distances and along with the terribly long time that it takes, safe to say it pulls all of my purse strings hence in order to be slightly economical, I’ve been taking the Ola share (This, I repeat isn’t a promotional post. Just my feelings out here and for those who don’t know what Ola is, think of it as India’s Uber that also gives you the facility of sharing your ride)
Over the course of a few weeks, I’ve met incredibly interesting people, some who light up your face like an Old man whom I shared my ride with. He’s 65, retired but still wants to work, and not out of necessity but because that is what he’s learnt all of his life, to be resourceful, use his time. So he works with a ton of NGOs, teaches his neighbourhood kids and blesses and wishes good morning in the most incredible manner.
Which got me thinking, why don’t we wish each other like we would when we were a couple of five year olds? Loud good mornings, bright smiles, hugs that envelops you. Why the sullen, back to work, waiting for a weekend ones?
And then there are others who’ll just break your heart. I spent an hour and a half with a woman who silently sobbed while talking to her better half/almost at that stage person. Wiping an endless stream of tears with the back of her hand, hiccups, stammering, red eyes and a runny nose. All I could offer her were water and tissues.
Then there are others who are part time poets/models stuck in a corporate job; ones who’ll talk about politics and the issue with Kashmiri pandits; Women who’ll giggle and share their love of your favourite actor; some who’ll brood and not talk to you but suddenly owe you two rupees of their cab fare and look guilty; who talk about their jobs; talk about their love, a royal enfield that crashed and is recovering at a garage and all that is left of it is its helmet that they carry as a remembrance; figure out the business strategy of companies; drivers who’ll complain of faulty GPS routes, traffic, the times they got conned, a bit of their life.
These conversations are strangely liberating, you have no expectations out of people, and no pre conceived notions. Every ride is like drawing a card from a pile, you don’t know who you’ll bump into today, what you’ll stumble upon.
All of us are maybe just a bunch of stories, some long gone and a lot others waiting to happen.