First acquaintance

Sometimes, some people become acquaintances. By unconventional ways. You see them on the same bus everyday and they are like you who take the same bus everyday. Waiting for the same registration number in a BTS bus everyday. Well, queer as it may sound, I used to do that.

You see them often when picking vegetables, discarding one beans while picking the other. You catch them do the same with lady’s finger, all in the corner of your eye. You rarely acknowledge their presence nor they do to yours. But both of you know each other exists and it’s a pattern.

People waiting at the bus stop, the ones at the gym, the ones that come to your video library, book library, the ones that jostle for space and stand outside the ration shop. It is funny, you know them, yet don’t know them. You know their faces, the clothes they own, the footwear they wear and can guess at what they might be doing. Yet you don’t smile or say hello to them.

Well, in all these days of going to the park every morning regularly (all these days – 1 month successfully so far) I know the regular 20 – 25 of them and can distinguish them from the other random ones that pop up. Anyways, I was walking as usual and took a break after 4 rounds to do more all the time concentrating on the green in the front. I heard – ‘sustha?’ I thought mind must be playing games. I heard it again ‘susthaa’? And looked up to find an old man, who is a regular, by the way. I said ‘haagenilla’ and then proceeded to walk.

When I encountered him on my next round, he asked me to stop for a chat, told me I could join the exercise learning group if I wanted to. Then introduced himself, and said he was from Mangalore. He belongs to the club that maintains that park and his wife is the secretary of the ladies club. Also, there was a cultural program today at 2pm. I see.. I said ok, smiled and then proceeded to continue with my walking.

Well, tomorrow, I may try to talk to the burkha clad woman whom I banged into once while jogging, or might ask the red haired guy, if his hair is actually red in colour or he painted it that shade. Or might try to talk to the very old man who comes in every morning with biscuits, a bottle of water and a newspaper. Maybe he has a story. A son who snatches his newspaper, perhaps! Who knows??

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3 comments so far

  1. Atul Sabnis on

    [Sorry, Off Topic] Gaizabonts, my blog of five years and all my other blogs were hacked into on 6th Aug. Unless you hear from me otherwise, I have no control now, over the content in these blogs. I have moved to:

    selaphor.wordpress.com
    Atul Sabnis

  2. dharmabum on

    i have a strange towards talking to random strangers, i do not know why…

  3. aurorawonders on

    dharmabum: Yeah. Of late, have been wary of talking to strangers in the city. Something genuine is missing in them.

    I just enjoy talking to the ones in smaller towns and villages. There’s some spark, something genuine, something so irresistible.


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