“You seem happy today.” The rich baritone of the station mused. Yes, I sported a small smile today. I had come to like the time I spent in this station. It was the usual Saturday crowd and even the heavy downpour didn’t seem to faze people. Well, that’s life isn’t it? Missing the things that you had once loved and adored but let go of them for something stupid or something totally lame; like replacing an old home recipe with junk food. I start explaining the reason for my pleased look.
Do you know which kind of people I dislike the most? The ones who watch one kid getting bullied by another, bystanders who simply walk away when a person is hurting another person intentionally. Have you heard of bystander syndrome? It’s a theory about people who witness a crime and still do nothing about it thinking someone else might help. When I was young I thought other kids were scared to help the kid who was getting bullied because they were scared. They were scared that if they helped the kid in trouble, then the class bully might come after them next. I guess I was scared for the same reason too. As I got older, there were still bullies around me only I could see them outside the school too. They came in all shapes and sizes and were present everywhere; supermarkets, offices, bus, train, department store. Last week a guy from my class was bugging me and to avoid any unnecessary confrontations, I just kept quiet and took his crap. Most of the students minded their own business not because they wanted to get into trouble with this guy but because they particularly didn’t care. But there is this girl in my class who is kind of a nerd, came up to this guy and shouted at him to leave me alone. She literally dragged me without waiting to watch that guy’s reaction which I am pretty sure matched mine. My jaw was literally attracting flies and I had forgotten to blink for couple of minutes. I knew that the next time the guy sees me, he is going to lay it worse than before, but I didn’t give a damn because at that moment, someone cared for me. Do you know what kind of an exhilarating feeling that is? It made me happy. I have come to believe that something as simple as a human touch could heal deepest of the wounds. The thought of another person reacting because of my hurt, made me feel nice and important and for a change, it made me feel wanted. Well, after the girl dragged me out we didn’t necessarily have a “heart-to-heart” talk, did any “getting-to-know-each-other” act. She just glared at me and asked me to grow a spine and stand up to myself and departed from my presence in a huff. After couple of days I saw here sprawling under a tree. She said that people like me existed so that people like her, that is, the bystanders could live peacefully. She made me sound like a Greek tragic hero, but it left lot of unsettling thoughts in my mind. What do you think?
“Have you heard of Joshua Bell? He is a famous violinist, a child prodigy and carries a $3.5 million violin. Early January this year, he played in
This station has seen its share of fair amount of suicides. You know something funny about the people who committed suicide? Before they jumped in front of the train, they followed every traffic rule to keep themselves safe to come here all the way from wherever they were. Once coming here, they walked to the opposite platform using the stairs. They could have simply walked between the tracks right? They were going to die anyway. But you see, this human mind acts strange sometimes. People don’t die until and unless they want to and exactly the way they have pictured it. Till that moment of throwing themselves in front of the train, they love themselves the most. No matter how much you want to be like someone or how much you envy someone’s popularity, you don’t wish to be that person. You wish to see yourself in that person’s place. And your friend is right. You are the kind of person who brings peace to others. Do you know how amazing that is?”
I don’t know about amazing, but I sure feel like a Greek tragic hero; the one who goes mad in the end.
Next Week: It’s because I know that one should choose either to 'change' or to 'die', I prefer change.
Labels: Original fiction - Series
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