Smile: A Twisted Gift (Part-1)
HI there! It's been a while since the last post, I had myself occupied in a couple of things. I planned to post weekly this month, and then start posting a post every triduum. (It means a span of three days, I've really pulled off some Shashi Tharoor level act when it shows a red line on this existing word!).
Like I said, I have a lot of stories and experiences to share, and I hope you can spare some time listening to some of such tales from my fallible journey. It is preferred to keep your memories organized in categories of emotions and states, so that whenever you sit idle, you may visit each state of being, each emotion as a chapter, and as you skim through these chapters, you realize that you have lived more than you think, you have more than you think - you realize that God gave you enough.
One such chapter from my book is one of the most treacherously beautiful gifts from God - A Smile. Tears (about which I had already prepared a draft an year ago, will publish when I feel like it fits), are much more serene, much more honest, than smiles. You needn't read the wrinkles on the face of a person when he cries, just to understand what he truly means. Eyes often act as 'bi-directional receptors' of life- You see the world through your eyes, the world also sees you through them.
Tears in such a case are eyes yelling what a person feels like at the moment, smiles are the means of mouth to hide the same. Understanding how smiles work, is half the foundation and impetus of various Psychological, Philosophical, and Body Language related firms and sciences, no amount of study is enough to read the contexts or consequences of a smile, but we from all our studies know one thing about smiles for sure:
(damn even the author is unknown)
No matter how twisted smiles are, we always want our loved ones to smile back at us whenever we smile at them or vice versa, never to cry. It's more of a universal understanding of "If we win we are winners, If we lose we are humans." that all of us seem to carry. I carry a lot of such smiles, to hope that God makes this "last try" work, otherwise I would have to give it another "last try". There is also something cool about smiles, true smiles come from acceptance, and true tears come from the inability to accept.
I write, about what I wish to become, my future wish-list for my true father, as I smile about how God doesn't care what I want and eventually I will want what I am supposed to anyway. I stop to think of more and smile on what has already been received from the mail of life, and this smile is quite confusing. Of course, I also smile in a third way, an excited grin while waiting and pondering upon what the God might have written in his future wish-list from me (as any relationship works both ways, and often in a relationship one walks over the other ).
The most painful of them all is what I call the smile of "Sorry, limit reached!" (I face this one often, had to give it a name). Rahul is a sweet boy and it was so fun teaching him and the group, that I had to restrain myself from not staying there the entire day. He is what God wants of any human - Keen and innocent.
Today was Saturday, and as we promised to all, today was a day we would all stop studying and do some art stuff, coloring, drawing, painting. Today was also the day I was supposed to bring an English Alphabet and VarnaMaala Chart for them. By God's grace, I completely ignored my responsibilities like I usually do, (doing the "Sorry, limit reached!" smile as I write this lol) and went 30 minutes late. They had painted a mango by themselves using Haldi and Choona, as mixing them makes an orangeish-red color. I admired it, took a small test till the letter 'L'
'M' for Monkey tak padha paya tha, and Rahul said "I need to leave now, Truck has arrived" (Jana padega ab, truck aa gaya hai).
He asked if I would come to Khalilabaad to teach him their, he smiled and said "Main call karunga aapke number pe, aap jese jese bataoge wese wese likh lunga". I was to stunned to say anything, even though he stood smiling for a while, and on the way to my home several reasonable acts that could have saved me from this aching variety of smile flashed through my eyes. Rushing to buy him charts and pens and color pencils, taking his phone number, giving the phone number to his parent telling him to ensure I am informed once they reach, yet I, I stood, and nodded, wrote down my number as if I weren't holding back any tears, wore my helmet and took of, waving my hands to bid adieu without even looking back to how regretful inaction can actually be.
The Hundred and Fifty rupees of spare change that I had kept for fuel, seemed to burn a hole in my pockets. Knowing that offering them would have made his day, and saved mine from getting ruined, it got me more disappointed in myself. Rahul wasn't poor at all, but there's something about love that makes Krishna cherish Sudama's gift of Broken rice. All the children noted down my number in a hurry, not knowing when they might leave. I wrote as my heart-ached, knowing that calls may never come to this number by them.
The smile has returned as I try to frame the next set of words, and it means that the agonized storyteller might not even be capable of finishing this post in a single take. God, what a waste of flesh and bones am I? I need a little more time to frame it, but signing off with something I read a few days ago:
मुस्कुराते बहुत हो तुम, कभी खुश भी रहा करो।
Comments
Post a Comment