It was a cold evening a decade ago and I was in Jabalpur, a laid back township that thrived on people like me.
The furore of the Y2K was far from being buried, in fact it had still not died down. Life was good as always, but there were many answers that I sought – answers I know that life will reveal only when time comes and not before. But then God has designed people to seek answers very vigorously when they are in their twenties. Some wisdom comes with answers delivered after one has turned thirty years and not before.
I was two years short of my three decades on Earth my answer would start to show. But, it happened that. Two years earlier than the datum I had once perceived, that the my question got answered. I became wiser than my peers. I believe so, because I whatever I experienced that day has stuck with me and still I think of that day. The incident remains fresh and mystical even after a more than a couple of decades.
I was a student then and pursuing telecom engineering. That memory is from the days I was busy with the end of term radio communications project. There was a lot activity of all types from doing the technical work to writing the report to presenting the inferences. But as is the case in most projects, there were some who wanted to learn, some who just wanted better grades, some wanted to impress the teachers, while there were a few who had attained Nirvana and couldn’t care less .
As is generally the case with most ambiverts, I am different from most of the lot amongst whom I work, maybe because I fit in a very small group whom I can identify with. There are even fewer whom I feel have the ability to think if at all, beyond earning your bread and butter. I work passionately where I feel I must or not at all. Therefore as part of the group, I was doing my bit. Helping those who wanted to be projected, trying to understand what impressed teachers, sometimes even drifting with those who were in the state of Nirvana. I was just being myself as usual. The part closest to me of putting through long distance HF communication was already over. I had not much interest left in the project, except in helping others doing their bit for their own reason.
That particular day had been a little more hectic than the usual days. The time was short and too many things had yet to be done. Some things were top priority and needed to be finished before the next day. The next day was the day we were to submit our individual reports and also the final project report by the group. I was still at ease for rarely things can be busy if I don’t want them to be. My individual report was ready and the group report would still take some more time. In all the hustle-bustle, I was my peaceful self, with a smile ready to escape but constrained by my endeavour not to offend others.
Jabalpur town was settling to a peaceful night – cold, calm and laid back. The traffic on the roads had considerably decreased and the distant lights of the town suggested the market would soon close for the day. It was then that someone realised that we were short on the stationary to really make the desired impact when we made our presentation the next day. I was the obvious guy, who was choosen to manage the stationery, probably because only I seemed to be at ease and it seemed I had nothing to do. We did not have any vehicle to move around. But during my previous stay at Jabalpur during the grand reunion party, I knew all distances in Jabalpur were walkable. So, killing all thoughts of going by some vehicle I decided to walk to Sadar Bazaar to pick up whatever was needed. I remembered that there was a stationery shop near the beginning of the market which always catered for the last minute requirements like ours. So I decided to walk down to the shop before it closed. The dinner could wait today as it should once in a while.
I was fortunate enough to pick up most of the things which were required before the lone stationary shop closed down. I was glad that I did things, which no one else would do – in fact they would not have been able to, frittering away precious time on useless squabbles. After picking up whatever was needed, I wanted to go to the Coffee Shop before I returned to the guys who would become more desperate with every passing minute. The midnight lamp would surely be burning tonight, for there was still a lot of work to be done. The visit to the Coffee Shop was removed from my mind as soon as it had entered my mind. Some ones good things need to wait. I was quite cold when I started walking back. Coffee too could wait.
As I walked back I got busy in my thoughts about what life had to offer and what was needed to add a little more happiness around. I won’t call this a distraction but a blessing to be able to think of something else during pressing times. I had a family to look-after and the associated responsibilities. I knew that for the work I did I would never be able to break out of the shell of GIMC – “The Great Indian Middle Class” despite of the resources and the where-with-all that I could tap. I was wondering what could really be that thing be which brought happiness to a family. Was it all about money? No, money does not buy certain things, I was aware of that. Social status? No, my definition of happiness does not depend on what others think about me. The others’ view about me is fraught with gullibility and thus brings a great degree of uncertainty. Good family? No, I have a beautiful family but I still felt like I missed that special ingredient that brought satisfaction and happiness to a family.
What was it, I did not know on that cold night. As I walked back such thoughts were vivid, exciting and did shield me from the cold. The brisk pace of the walk was also helping a bit there.
As I walked along the hedge of the lantana bush along the footpath, I heard the laughter, a laughter shattered the shield and made me return to the real world. I soon realised that the cold breeze had made me cold and I would soon be missing the cup of coffee which I had decided to sacrifice. But the laughter was a sheer contrast to the cold – it felt warm. The bushes were hiding the source of that laughter. Curiosity took the better of me and I peeked through the bush. There were some people sitting around a small fire. I decided to have a closet look, least realising that the my perceptions about life would never remain the same thereafter. When I look back, I feel grateful to the One above for granting me that moment.
What I saw just as I went around the bush made me smile. A family had gathered around a small fire and were enjoying some anecdote – something that had made them all laugh. The laughter had still not died out as I closed in on them, walking in the darkness. They were still not aware of a stranger watching them enjoy their moment of mirth. I stood for a while watching them, smiling. It must have been sometime before the little girl noticed me and indicated to the man next to her by holding his hand – I could sense the anxiety and wanted to move away before I spoiled their celebration. But before that could happen, I heard the man inviting me to join them. I was now partly confused, partly embarrassed and totally at a loss for words. It took a while for me to take a decision and I decided to join them around the warmth of the small fire. The guys back there could wait a while, that extra time would not be noticed by anyone and I was not very hungry, either. This would be a different experience and the routine should always wait when such opportunities arise.
The man called for me again and this time I smiled moving towards the small group and absorbing the moment rather fast. I guessed [and correctly so] that it was a family get together. A humble family get-together. The man, his wife, their daughter and the man’s younger brother – anyone could have noticed the striking similarity between the two men. I do remember the names distinctly but then the names do not matter, as always names never matter. I will not mention their names, never have whenever I have narrated this incident.
Soon, we started talking. I was as reluctant to disclose my identity as I was keen to find about them as much as I could. This somehow seemed to be a very different experience. I learnt that they had a tribal background and the lure of a better life had made them attempt a foray into the urban forest. They, had separated from their kith and kin with a hope. They had reached out to the world, attempting to break the shell that offered very little. The risk had been great, for this breaking of the shell had happened when the little girl was an infant and the family required much more security than what the bare minimum level of security their nomadic jungle life offered. I think all humans endeavour like this – breaking out of the shell and taking risks.
But the risk had been worth it. The family had learnt the ways of the the new world, learnt the language, the system of earning a living, and what was need to progress for a better life. The advancements had been rapid and the family had adapted very well. Their achievements can be compared to the meteoric rise of the businessmen in my world. But then all worlds are different. I was reminded of what Richard Bach had written in ‘One’. Every single human lives in a different world, the achievements, the struggles, the glory for each one is different and at different datum. The family was happy because the man had been given a raise and now could plan to get their only daughter educated. The house could wait and so could the marriage of the younger man. The laughter had a deeper meaning now. I smiled. God showers his bliss in numerous ways. It showed in their will to endure and decide for a better world.
Their story seemed to far outgrow on all measures of enormity to my own – making my struggles seem like child’s play. The family offered me their humble meal of rice and dal. I shared their meal with them. I felt a little awkward because I am not comfortable eating someone else’s food and in this case I know what effort would have gone into getting that dinner. Absolute stranger, sitting around their small fire and probably eating a chunk into their collective day’s wages – I am sure all three worked to make a living. That family was made of people with great hearts. In my world I had not known anybody who could share a meal with an absolute stranger, especially if the cost of that meal was almost equivalent to the daily earnings for the day!
Strange things happen strangely, but very few of these tend to leave their mark. It was as enlightening as it was humbling experience to be sitting around a small fire amongst very poor people who had very big hearts. People who despite of going through everything tough that life had to offer, knew that joy was in small things which had no monetary cost. Small things that I had not noticed at all, in my search for the ultimate happiness. Best things are not things at all. I learnt this big lesson that cold night amongst the humble folks sitting around the warmth of the small fire. Small things like the twinkling stars, the morning dew on a rose petals and sharing someone’s life story can give abundant, unconstrained happiness, while bringing out life lessons. Only one has the time to slow down to see the world around and seek happiness.
More than a couple of decades ago such a moment had been given to me, yet it remains as fresh as yesterday. The true joy of life is in small things.
