A Moment in Waiting
Writing
Shashank Kulkarni
I am in a crowded bus. The bus has stopped moving for some time now. I lift my head up to see that the Saturday afternoon traffic is quite harsh. The sun that falls on my lap is much harsher. The jazz music in my ears helps me escape the moment for some time. My thoughts wander and so do my eyes.
At the next stop, the man next to me vacates the seat and another man sits as he speaks on his phone. As he settles, he disconnects and lowers the phone in his hands. I notice the screen just before it changes. It was a long name so I could not read the whole of it. I feel a pang of guilt for even wanting to read it. But I caught two things – a ‘ji’ after the name and a heart emoticon after the said ‘ji.’ Then, the screen quickly changed to a smiling woman’s photo saved as his screensaver.
“Men in love” is what a typical Insta post would label this to be. Labels do not fancy me. I just want to smile and be happy for them.
I reflect upon my daily walks to the Institute, the mornings when various employees from various companies are in the rush to get off the metro and make it to their respective bureaus in time. I like to notice that different people have different walks. The truly committed ones who put their feet in quick succession to pace up their walk as though if they do not place their thumbs on the green light in time, the scanner will burn their fingers red. The not-so-committed ones who do not really care for any light and make sure that they space out their legs and take a moment to breathe freely after that unruly metro ride. The energetic ones who move in such an amusing manner that I sometimes have a hard time figuring if they walk or run to their destinations. Sometimes they just appear to be hopping like rabbits in a concrete field. I like to think of Whiplash at such times when it is difficult to understand them. I modify Fletcher’s line – are they rushing or are they dragging?
But no matter the way they walk, what catches my eye and makes me want to thank the ever-growing technology for once is its ability to connect people. How often I see people quickly steal a call as they walk hurriedly. Bless the technology that helps people just put on their wireless earphones and talk to whoever they like. A friend, a colleague, a relative or maybe, a lover.
The ones who speak to their lovers are easy to spot. The call brings a warm glow of passion to their faces and a slight relaxation to their walk. It lasts just for a moment but it is there. The ‘blink-and-you miss-it’ kind.
On evenings when I feel like I belong to no one, not even myself, I take a stroll to the flag-pole which has been proudly erected at a junction in our locality. I sit and I wait. I look at the pedestrians and the motorists. It is a common center for so many of these people who pass each other. Knowingly or unknowingly. A bike passes a car, a car passes a bus. A bus passes a cart, a cart passes a bike. The cycle repeats, the people change.
Or maybe, they do not. Maybe these are the same people who often cross each other at this hour. The hour of the in-between.
There are so many moments of in-betweens. Mostly found in the passage of travel. From home to work and from work to home. Be it walking, be it in an auto, a bus or a metro.
It is perhaps in the involuntary waiting of being somewhere or reaching somewhere that we find ourselves with a moment of self. Where we just exist, where we are a part of a crowd and yet feel the most like an individual. We often lose sight of this fine line of distinction. It is here that my mind tries to see and emphasize over the statement that man is a social animal. For when the daily hustle-bustle pushes people through the day, where it is easy to feel numb and mindless, they crave a moment of self. A moment they would happily trade anything for. Funnily enough, when they finally seem to have that moment which is theirs and theirs only, they do not spend it on themselves. They give it away, they share it. They send a text. They make a call.
I wonder if the call they make is out of love or out of a fear of loneliness. As I feel a heaviness in my heart and my mind, I prefer to choose the former. Because it involves a sweet curve of the lips that is close to a smile. There is eagerness to talk, to listen, to nod even when the other person cannot see it – to share the routine, the gossip, and the desires with that someone. It is interwoven with the hope that the call will soon not be necessary, for things will fall in place and they will be in each other’s presence. To do things that they cannot do over a call – look into their eyes closely and understand them, to reach out if need be, trace their fingers, hold their face in your hands, pull them in for a hug, allow the cheeks to brush against each other while the heartbeats make your bodies quiver and when you are finally able to accept the moment, you break into a smile, a giggle or, a laugh even (and be able to see it now), and then, talk about everything all over again but this time by feeling the warmth of their skin close to you.
Perhaps that is what the in-betweens are for. To make calls and to hope.
Before I give in to the other side of my mind which starts to think of all this in a different shade, I prepare to leave. A shade where the man is a selfish animal. One who makes the calls to avoid feeling alone. One who makes the effort only when there is ‘free-time’ but does not will to make any. One who just wants a distraction while there is nothing more to do than wait. One who cannot be in their own company for more than a minute. One who… one who…
Sometimes it is too much, my unnecessary ability to think from as many angles as possible. So, I get up from the flag-pole and leave the square behind by walking away from it. I return to the crowded bus where the suffocation has grown strong but the bus has finally begun to move. It moves with effective speed and I can now feel the breeze in my hair. I see it make a familiar turn. It reaches close to a spot where once there was a lot of walking done in pair. A path where the sun’s harshness did not bother me before because it was hardly ever noticed. I step out at this last stop with the others and I begin to walk. I walk and I wonder. Should I make the call or just hang around in…?
I walk. I walk. I walk.
Concept Note
So, I am supposed to write about the conception of this piece that I have written. To be honest, I do not really understand it – the what or the why, even. Maybe I should write about the theme. Love, punctuated. What is it really? Dare I think the full stops or the question marks in love? Or dare I ponder over the breaks or the exclamations that come with it? Maybe I should think of the moments that make it what it is – the airpods, the books, the coffees, the dates, the earrings, the flowers, the grass, the hammock, the ice-cream, the jacket, the kisses, the lamp, the movies, the noodles, the omelets, the photos, the quotes, the ribbons, the surprises, the tissues, the umbrella, the voice-notes, the what are you still doing here reading this? Is this not enough to make you pick up your phone and make that call? Go on my dear reader, I’ll wait, I’ll be around blabbering. Till then, how about you speak to that person? Your person?
Artist Bio
Given his gullible nature, Shashank Kulkarni has been held hostage by the dwarves. They believe that the world outside would not only do good but prosper in his absence. They also believe that they are non-violent creatures, so they do not hold any gun to his head. Instead, they hold an ax to his neck. After all, they are dwarves and well, they don’t really follow what they believe in. So, that is why they provide Shashank with books and movies every now and then, they let him study and travel and venture into French and filmmaking. Even deep down in their well-mining hearts they believe that maybe, just maybe, once out for good, Shashank may conjure up some courage and do some good in the world, if not the best.