Life's Like This...

It amazes me how some pestilential specimen on the earth could be such experts in bugging. A septagenerian on my most recent train journey stood testimony to this fact.

Travelling alone has never been an exciting experience in the past. So the presence of my uncle this time, evoked the undaunted chatterbox in me. We were in the middle of this really involving and amusing, light discussion about "hypocrisy in following traditions" when I heard THE VOICE. I guess God would have sounded that way when He said "Let there be Light". THE VOICE belonged to a slightly hefty, round bellied, white haired old man sitting beside me and munching chapathis. He pronounced "You are wrong" and started blabbing about how the usual symbols of an Indian girl (a bindi, bangles, MangalSutra - he did not bother to think if I was actually married or not) are missing in me and how our "culture" and "tradition" are lost in most of us and this and that and this again and that again. He volunteered to provide some "musical" entertainment by graciously blowing his own trumpet - "Oh I do Yoga, Pranayama everyday. Oh I walk for half and hour everyday even at my age. Oh I follow strict diet." - Probably that is the trade secret behind his hanging belly which seemed to walk before him wherever he went, like a bodyguard.

It was evident on his face that he disliked me - intensely in that, reasons unknown. It was also more evident that most of what he was speaking was mere lies. Irony - Our discussion on hypocrisy actually tempted our dear neighbour on the train to be unbearably and shamelessly hypocritical. Honesty, for him, seemed to be hidden at the bottom of a bottomless abyss. Age, trials, tribulations in life have apparently failed to teach him to speak atleast simple truths. I wondered how many more of us are like that. The train moved fast, he kept preaching, a few others including my uncle nodded along and asked "doubts" (Wham!), I sat silent, alone again.The journey continued...