crying

I am crying a lot these days. The other day, on the way to work, I cried all the snot out of my brain. I hope my driver mistook my sniffles for a cold.


I was reading Roddy Doyle - A Star called Henry - and I was crying at the abject poverty of people of Ireland in the begining of 20th century. And I was crying thinking about all the Indian revolutionaries, who came from the masses, the poor, who gave up their livelihood and lives for a better India, without any mention in the footnotes of history. Like Henry, they had no inherent love towards any country, for they knew not what a country was, they know not what a country is. They were and still are busy surviving. I was crying for them.

I am also listening to a lot of music on my i-pod on the way to office and back.

I was listening to aabhogi by U. Aamir Khan. And I was crying - knowing that such greatness can exist, such melody can be created by man.

I was listening to saaranga tere yaad mein by Mukesh. And I was crying when he was singing "vo ambuva ka jhoolana, vo pipal ki chhaanv", my eyes moistened at the loss of the pastoral innocence that was so easily accessible in my childhood.

Baiju Bawra is singing to Gauri "tu ganga ki mauj mein". And as he sings "agar too hain saagar to mazadhaar main hoon/ tere dil kee kashtee kaa patawaar main hoon/ chalegee akele naa tum se ye naiyyaa/ milegee naa manjil tumhe been khiwayyaa", I am crying as if the Almighty is sending these words to the lost me.

And I am crying again. The Parsi Colony Bus Stop is full with smart people going to their work, schools and colleges. Good looking girls in smart and sexy dresses. And next to the bus stop, kneeling on the rosd is an intrepid boy with no legs - not a beggar - just waiting to cross the busy throughfare on his own. And I am crying at our preoccupations of our non-existent struggle for survival.

I am crying at the greatness of the universe that is human life.

And I am crying at my smallness.