1st life 1st story
https://youtu.be/6ByyLAjz4ec
यहाँ वहां सारा जहाँ देख लिया है
कहीं भी तेरे जैसा कोई नहीं है
अस्सी नहीं
सौ दिन दुनिया घूमा है
नहीं कहीं तेरे जैसा कोई नहीं
मैं गया जहाँ भी
बस तेरी याद थी
जो मेरे साथ थी
This song by AR Rehman was my all time favorite song. I could feel goosebumps on my arms. Electrifying lyrics. And I sang along with Rehman. It was like talking to a dear friend. My heart was beating fast. Unknowingly my inner voice came to my rescue 'I am a son of India. I was born here, I worked here and I will die here. I mean, not on this journey but in India. This is my country. I have every right to live here.' these words filled me with strength. Hatred is a very strong emotion brother, it can fill empty cups and bring to life dead souls. I drank from the water bottle. Who knows what is going to happen the next hour. I don't believe in saving water for the unseen future. I want to quench my thirst right now. As I gulped down the water I saw a middle aged man (he looked middle age by his clothes) wearing a mask. He looked educated, there is a man with a video camera walking behind him. These guys are shooting me. I quickly put the water bottle back in the bag. Now the first guy started to walk towards me. I got a bit nervous and quickly hid my face with a kerchief just uncovering my eyes so that I can see. 'brother, what's your name? From where are you coming?' he asked in a concerned tone. I replied 'my name is om Prakash, I am coming from Greater Noida.'the reporter covered his forehead with his hand. I laughed thinking about his plight. We are going back to our native places these hardships are inevitable to us. But why is this middle aged man and this cameraman following us. To know our story, you know what? Our story sells for more than our fate. They are going to play my story through out the day and earn money, fame and reputation. But me? I don't know for certain if I can reach my native place by tomorrow! He loosened his shirt and began talking to me again 'How did you reach this highway?' He asked. 'By walk mostly' I replied. He sighed deeply. 'look at the young chap, boys of his age must be watching TV in their homes after a comfortable lunch. And this boy? Look at his worn out slippers. My heart goes out to him. I should do something for this brave boy' the reporter thought to himself. Empathy my friends is a good thing. But nothing constructive ever comes out of it. 'How can this stranger help me? This reporter feels my pain, I can understand that. But what can he do? He can't order buses to start commuting on this highway. He's not the government. The present moment is filled with mostly this fleeting emotion and uncomfortable silence. I just realised that now'. So what were you working as in the city? he asked. 'I was working as a construction worker'. I remembered the site of construction, my friends. How we all depended on one single mobile phone to talk to our families. One call per week, had to pay 10 rupees for the call. But totally worth it. Hearing my mom's excited voice and my dad's proud voice was what I looked forward for the whole week. I was going home after 6 months. To my village in bihar Chhapra Saran district. Your place is where your heart is, not where big buildings selling big things are. It's where your brothers and sisters stay in a joint family of 12 people. The fields, smell of mud, cow dung, earthen pots, village chatter everything is so full of life. Noida had buildings but no homes, had playground but no children playing (most of the time children were indoors now because of the corona fever). 'How much water is left with you?' He asked, I showed him the half empty bottle of water. How much money do you have? 'he asked?' God! Why this question now? Where are you going to? This guy is non stop asking questions, now I won't reply him I resolved and slightly bent my head down. I was ashamed to see him in the eye. How could I tell him I have 10 rupees left with me. But he insisted, how much money do you have with you? I showed him the ten rupees note. In a single flash my future came in front of my eyes. Walking in the hot sun with nothing to eat, nobody to ask! I felt orphaned for that one minute. It felt like eternity before I could move on. I have to commute a distance of 500 km. I just need to get home, to my home where my family is. Rehmans song echoed in my ears once again. I chanted my mantra 'I am son of India, I am proud to be a part of the country. I have not sinned. I am going to my family because I feel safe in my hometown rather than unknown city'. I told this to him confidently. He saw that I was getting a bit emotional and told me to be strong. 'be courageous like you have been till now. Nothing is going to happen to you. You will reach to your family very soon. Take care and bye' . As we departed, we shook hands and he silently slipped into my fingers a 100 rupees note. I was surprised as I was never expecting this or any favour from the reporter. He began to walk towards another group of people. I made my way to a halted truck and asked him for a lift till gorakhpur. He agreed and I climbed into the truck. Real life heroes exist in our daily lives. Look around you, you will find them lending you a hand when faced with difficulties, putting on a smile for you, lifting your spirits up, making music which uplifts you. Real life heroes exist. I continued to listen to the radio. Sleep was just around the corner. I closed my eyes relieved.
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