Of the many memories associated with the city, is a recent one of a particularly rainy day about an year and half ago. I was in the city commuting between the eastern and the western suburbs in one of those black 'n' yellow Bajaj RE auto rickshaws. It had been a typical difficult day with water clogging low lying streets and the indefatigable traffic jams near the Andheri railway station. Waiting at a particular spot for the traffic to open up, I noticed a well dressed middle aged man in the auto alongside mine. Dressed in a crisply ironed pale yellow shirt and formal trousers, he appeared well groomed and part of the media community that is omnipresent in those parts of Bombay. As is usual to his likes, and I generalize, the upper two buttons of his shirt were undone.
He took out a cigarette but didn't have a light on him. Asking his auto driver proved futile and he looked around for some help. The driver of another auto behind him happened to catch his eye and this man made a mute signal of raising the smoke held between his fingers. 'Got a match?' With an acknowledgement of the request, the other driver fumbled for a while in his pockets and finally found a matchbox in the 'first aid box' of his vehicle. This man gets out and walks up to the other auto, between the vehicles and under the slight drizzle, lights his cigarette with the match that the driver has lit, expresses his gratitude with a slight nod and walks back to his own auto. In a few seconds the traffic cleared up and we all went our way. Not a word, no please, no thank you. All in the matter of a few seconds.
He took out a cigarette but didn't have a light on him. Asking his auto driver proved futile and he looked around for some help. The driver of another auto behind him happened to catch his eye and this man made a mute signal of raising the smoke held between his fingers. 'Got a match?' With an acknowledgement of the request, the other driver fumbled for a while in his pockets and finally found a matchbox in the 'first aid box' of his vehicle. This man gets out and walks up to the other auto, between the vehicles and under the slight drizzle, lights his cigarette with the match that the driver has lit, expresses his gratitude with a slight nod and walks back to his own auto. In a few seconds the traffic cleared up and we all went our way. Not a word, no please, no thank you. All in the matter of a few seconds.
5 comments:
It's called brotherhood of sutta , "thank you, please and gratitude", the worldy words are taken for granted..thank you and prayers comes out from the heart of the smoker with the very first puff. it's the moral duty of one smoker to help another.following the words of Bhagwat Geeta
Karm kar, phal ki chinta mat kar
ur blog has always been a good read !!
:)
the brotherhood of sutta is right!
All this while I'd been trying to convince myself that u were on a "sutta-break" and hence the absence of new posts. Now its too long! get ur lazy [you know what] to work, and give us something to read, think or feel good about.
UPDATE MAANGTA!!!
This reminds me - when i used to smoke....Once in Delhi, i asked the autowallah for 'maachis'. He briskly searched his pockets and handed me the match box which had just 2 'tilis'.
I think he knew women arent so good at lighting ciggs with matches, so he espcially slowed down so that i could light up.
That was the first and the last time i saw any autowallah so eager to help!
I agree ....its 'brotherhood of sutta' :-)
(BTW, thanks for stopping by!)
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