Thoughts were getting intense as the daylight ducked under the mountains and darkness reigned. A face beautifully wrapped in wrinkles started cropping up on the walls of my skull. A face having long swinging beard which could be home to Crested Oropendolas. It appears to be a Buddha figure with beard.
A city where commuting by any other means of transport is a nightmare, I am one of those rare breed of blessed residents of Mumbai who "walk to work". On my way, I have to cross a railway over bridge, generally having very few strollers, a feature very uncommon in Mumbai. The broken side railings, fractured stairs and iron rods peeping out of ripped cement, surfaces the age of the bridge.
It's been quite sometime I am using the bridge. Although there are some other alternate roads which I can use to reach office but there is some strange attraction which pulls me towards the bridge. The steps are frequent in morning, there is hardly anytime to look around, but in the evening the lazy steps give eyeballs a chance to gaze at the details. It's the time when I sense some kind of tranquility unfolding on the bridge. And as I draw near to the North West end of the bridge, the same Buddha figure with beard which was cropping up in my mind while I was leaving from the office comes alive. An old man, perhaps ages old, with just skin on the bones sitting in a posture similar to that of an enlightened Buddha, humming something which is hardly decipherable. He seems to be a nomad. I see him daily.
Whenever I get closer to the flights of steps of the mystic's bridge, few questions arise in my mind. Daily, I resolute to ask him but as I come nearer to him, it becomes difficult for me to muster up the courage and propound my queries to the vagabond , I simply walk past him.
What is he singing? Why he always sits on exactly the same place daily? Does he know how many years are passed since he first sat here? How many ages he has seen? IS HE THE BUDDHA?
Well, in the meantime, my fascination for mystics is ever-growing.
A city where commuting by any other means of transport is a nightmare, I am one of those rare breed of blessed residents of Mumbai who "walk to work". On my way, I have to cross a railway over bridge, generally having very few strollers, a feature very uncommon in Mumbai. The broken side railings, fractured stairs and iron rods peeping out of ripped cement, surfaces the age of the bridge.
It's been quite sometime I am using the bridge. Although there are some other alternate roads which I can use to reach office but there is some strange attraction which pulls me towards the bridge. The steps are frequent in morning, there is hardly anytime to look around, but in the evening the lazy steps give eyeballs a chance to gaze at the details. It's the time when I sense some kind of tranquility unfolding on the bridge. And as I draw near to the North West end of the bridge, the same Buddha figure with beard which was cropping up in my mind while I was leaving from the office comes alive. An old man, perhaps ages old, with just skin on the bones sitting in a posture similar to that of an enlightened Buddha, humming something which is hardly decipherable. He seems to be a nomad. I see him daily.
Whenever I get closer to the flights of steps of the mystic's bridge, few questions arise in my mind. Daily, I resolute to ask him but as I come nearer to him, it becomes difficult for me to muster up the courage and propound my queries to the vagabond , I simply walk past him.
What is he singing? Why he always sits on exactly the same place daily? Does he know how many years are passed since he first sat here? How many ages he has seen? IS HE THE BUDDHA?
Well, in the meantime, my fascination for mystics is ever-growing.
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