While coming back home today a person shattered me inside out. A lady as old as my grandmother sat beside me at the bus stop. The very look of her face showed me the years of wrath she’s gone thru. Still there was no drop of misery, no shadow of pain. However she looked in mockery at the happiness around. Her desolate eyes made you want to hug her, hold her tight, protect her from the suffering around her. Even though she never asked for. We never spoke not even once I don’t know if she even noticed me. But somehow it was like I knew her story already. She was a widow. If you did ask me how I know since I haven’t spoken to her. It showed from that colourless sari, no jewelry. She could be a beggar but she was not. She was clean and her hair oiled and tidy.
I don’t know what misery she has gone thru. Probably it was the same senior citizen harassment. Probably her son had asked her not to be at home, have heard of so many such stories that I guess she was there for the same reasons. Even after she realized that I had been looking at her and her torn state for so long not once did her face leave that stoic expression. Her pride and dignity never left her even once. As if telling me this is what you get with age, this is the curse of life.
As I boarded my bus and turned to see her looking at me. I longed to just sit by her side and let her know that she was not alone. My heart cried to go back to her but then my mind got the better of me and said “what can you do?”. At that time I did not have the answer to the question but now I have. And it’s to ensure that this never happens to my parents. For myself the only thing I would pray to god would be to kill me whilst I’m young and independent. For others I would like to say –

When you tripped and fell,
When you failed and cried,
There was a hand to hold,
To hold you tight.

When that hand grew weak,
And tripped and fell,
Where were you?
To hold it tight.


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