Look Up!
I was moving like a nobody. At that phase
in my life I wanted to be called a Mr. Nobody. That was my state of mind. Just
like they preserve cells in liquid nitrogen where they stop their growth and
they could revive them later, I wanted something similar for myself. I was at
the epitome of self pity. That is what the end of first love probably looks
like. You want to taken up by the tsunami or just stop living for a few days.
No, I didn’t commit suicide, I tried, yes, but I couldn’t. Reason, I was the
only son of my parents and that had invested their lives in me. Killing me
would be like killing them, taking three lives. I was their pride, honor and
love. How could I crush the flower of unconditional love, where I just wished
the girl I thought was the love of my life added to its fragrance? I was certainly not that heartless. I however
wasn’t doing what they earned a living for and invested in. I had stopped
studying., eating and would just lie on my bed never wanting to wake up.
In a boys hostel, like attracts like. I
began to gel with people who like me would philosophize pain and believe
alcohol could cure it. Who believed that they were the only ones that were
hurt. Rather than using the pain for
creative ventures other than listening to the broken heart poetry and ghazals
the whole day we did nothing. I at all
times was in a drunken stupor, not knowing what to do next. It wasn’t as if I
liked it. When my parents would call, who didn’t know about it; I had to
pretend like all was well. It ate me up, the lying but I couldn’t make them sad
with the truth. It was the last thing I wanted. The self pity however consumed
me so much that I wasn’t even doing what I was supposed to. I was lost between
grief and duty.
Therefore on a Saturday night when a couple
of hostel mates decided to booze I joined too. We had gone to a pub in GK2,
Delhi and that day my mom just called before we entered the pub. I felt so bad,
I couldn’t booze after that. So I was the sober guy that was driving the drunk
lot back home, it was then may be God’s decided to help me. After boozing we
went to a dhaba (road side food stall in India) to hog on food, as our limited
allowances from parents got us limited luxuries. We had over ordered or most of
the guys being drunk didn’t eat much. I got the rest of the stuff packed and
while we were driving back at around 3 AM,
I saw a child under the street light still awake. He was in tattered
clothes. At first I thought he must be hungry so I parked the car, and went to
him with the packed food. As I drew nearer I clearly saw what he was doing. He
was trying to read. I was shocked. I should be the one studying at this hour.
He got scared when he saw me initially but I smiled at him. I was almost in
tears. I asked him what he was doing so late reading. He said I have to work in
the morning to feed myself so I read at night. I felt so bad that day that I
gave him all the food and the little cash I had for him to buy more books.
People called him Chotu. He didn’t know his name. Chotu couldn’t go to school
for he had to work but the willingness to learn was so empowering within him
that he would read till his eyes gave up and slept took over.
I went to my room, got the guys into their
beds and the thought of Chotu, after days made me open my books. I enrolled
Chotu in the club of our college that teaches school children in the
evening. I struggled but completed my
lag that my studies had faced in the past few months. It wasn’t as if my heart
didn’t ache but I would use the pain to construct something. Today, Chotu can
read and write in English. He is good at studying and I am earning now and have
decided to support him. Though I think I cannot say that, as it was he who
revived me to new life.
The person next to you can be
inspirational, only if you can see it, sense it. #Lookup for that.
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