A Sunday walk…

It is another Sunday. Usually, this day is meant to sleep as per the alleged student rules of India. But I am up early, to enjoy the wetness of my land, to see the sun flirting with the flowers in the garden, to touch the bubbles on the leaves and to crawl with the ugly snail in the grass. I pulled up the socks and tightened the shoe lace. I know it is freezing cold outside.

The pathways are filled with water and there are some tiny creatures jumping within. But I do not care because I decided to walk.

It is drizzling and the rain drops wet my jacket. These are the flowers from the unseen heaven, showered upon me from the Almighty. I splashed the water as I moved. Each twinkling drops are smiling at me. I could sense the air of happiness around. The sun brightens more, spreading warmth in that coldness.

People are out for their morning walks, panting and sweating as they move. Their bobbing bellies made me giggle. “Good morning,” said an uncle, with a pleasant grin on his face. I haven’t seen him before.  But he looked familiar. I returned the wish and continued walking. There is happiness in every face I meet. Live they walk, as if they do not own any problems.

The drizzling got stopped and the sun has brightened. I reached the park next to the church. It is a poorly maintained park, with weeds grown high and trash spread around. A few elders are resting on the benches, chatting and reading newspapers. I walked through the lanes between. There is a man sitting under a tree. He seems to have no leg. There is a banana leaf in front of him, with idlis in it.

The sunlight glowed his dark skin. I observed the man for few minutes. He would have been handsome during his youth. Now the age has spread wrinkles on his face and rendered him weary. There are signs of hard work on his hands, with veins protruding out of the skin. He is enjoying his food, dipping every piece deep within the curry and munching them slowly. He is almost done with his breakfast and is wrapping the leaf.

There is a wooden board with wheels beneath him. He scrawled with it through the ground. He is moving somewhere with the leaf. I noticed there is a dustbin far ahead. He tried to raise his hands to reach the dustbin, but it was too high for him. “Can you help me to put this inside?” he asked a little boy who came to take the ball nearby. The boy stared at him and ran with the ball. He looked around and saw nobody is watching him. He turned back, lifted the crushed leaf and threw it high. The aim was sharp and it fell right into the dustbin.

The man is scrawling back to the tree, through the innumerable papers and plastics lying on the grass. He seems to be careless about the world around. He is nearing the tree. Without retracting the vision from him, I slowly bent down to take the paper I just threw down.