Lies between the Earphones

In a very drastic change in my life, I shifted from the calm and serene life that painted Sewagram to the fast and chaotic life in Mumbai. On the professional front, I started work and study with engineers who have topics to discuss that were way different from my earlier companions, mostly doctors and medical students. Although their genres differed, the spark that typified both these groups was impeccably similar. Whereas my previous hostels were filled with discussions on interesting patients with characteristic signs, stupefying reports, unending blood samples and girls, here it was mostly lost variables, unyielding codes, weird graphs, complex circuits and girls. (Told you, impeccable similarity!) It was quite an interesting transition and it brought along a realm of fascination. I found both the companies very interesting. After all, be it doctors or engineers, they all belonged to a quite familiar tribe- young, sincere and truthful,  bit confused, with great aspirations and most importantly, with a good heart.

Another way interesting thing that changed in my life was the people I saw every day. In Sewagram, it was the same professor I met in the operation theatre in the morning who sat somewhere nearby in a cinema theatre (ruining all chances to whistle or hoot during the movie). It was the same attendant who smiled at me in the morning who sat beside me in the saloon as the barber told me a detailed and crunchy inside hospital report of the past month. People, who once were patients, buying grocery and you remember accurately the diagnosis but forget the name (so, it is like “left indirect inguinal hernia bed no.36 but…”). In essence, Sewagram was a familiar place with familiar people. Mumbai on the other hand is a metro with more than 18 million people trying, competing, screaming, running and most importantly pursuing, surviving and living. Here, is a place where people forget the person they met in the morning. People know the exact station on which they have to get down from the local train everyday yet seldom do have any idea of the stations that follow. Fancy facebook and linkedin accounts which the world adores are much important issues than your neighbour’s first names. Love takes a back seat as life moves at a pace too fast to cope up. But, never the less people know each other by smiles which on some days prefer to stay in the clouds of stress that inhabits every corner of this city. Through these few months had I moulded myself to this life in Mumbai, was a question I always asked myself. It got answered that day as I came back from home in the 6.20 am train from Nashik to Thane.

I searched for the seat allotted to me. It was a window seat that I had to “earn” given the world class IRCTC website that requires innumerable logins. I got to my seat, put my backpack into the racks and sat comfortably. I had sacrificed my morning sleep to get back to my institute in time. So, I decided to take a quick nap as the train left the Nashik Road station. Few minutes later, I woke up and found the seat beside me occupied by an elderly male with distinct wrinkles on his forehead. I managed to spend a little smile to greet the man- a culture, even Mumbai adopts, but mostly to demarcate boundaries rather than as “conversation starters”. But, that smile came with humility and I asked the man if he needed the window seat. He smiled back, declined and got lost in his own world. A world that seemed troubling, unsettling, sad and a world that made the wrinkles on his forehead turn deeper. It was here that I met something that helped me sort out- the great question of moulding myself to the ways in Mumbai. They were this pair of earphones that I pulled out of my pocket. The human self in me asked me to stop and ask the old man about his predicaments. But, the other part of my self asked me to mind my own business as his story may not have been of any immediate concern to me. Perhaps, he lost a close friend or his spouse, perhaps his daughter and son-in-law were mean to him, perhaps he had concerns about his grandchildren or some health problem. Most importantly, I knew that it had nothing to do with me. And besides, I had a valid excuse of the fact that I was sleep deprived and needed to rest before a day long series of lectures. So, I preferred the ear phones and went to sleep again. The tracks changed from Bengali songs to Marathi to Hindi to English as I went into “sweet slumber”. I woke up in between to check my luggage and then turned to the elderly co-passenger. I looked at him and found that he was struggling to get a nap. The wrinkles had deepened. My destination was a few minutes away. The morning sun had come up to shine on to my face. I took out those earphones from my ears and just stuffed them back into my pocket. I looked at the man for some time. Still, the rationalization was true that my life is screwed up enough. Why do I even care? The destination station was just couple of minutes away when I sorted out my mind and came up with the words, “All will be fine Uncle!!!” and I got up to get my backpack. I found a hand on my shoulders. The old man smiled after 3 long hours. I smiled back at him and got down to my destination. As I got down, I reached for my pockets where lay my earphones. Those exceptional inventions man has made to keep life to themselves. To rationalize the rat race they have already entered and to explain their insensitivity to the world around them. As I put on the earphones, and pressed the play button on my cell phone, the song that played reminded me of my basic question, my predicament…

“Aye dil hai mushkil jeena yahan

Zara hat ke zara bach ke, yeh hai Bambai meri jaan…”

I missed the story that the old man had to say. I did put my ear phone, I did rationalize. But, when called for, I was sensitive enough to calm a worried soul, to soothe the deepest of wrinkles. Perhaps that defines life in Mumbai- A city that rationalizes the argument that the world outside is beautiful so that it can sleep peacefully after a tiring day. A city with people who are selfishly busy in their own lives, yet good at heart to help spread smiles whenever needed. A city with a pair of earphones that lie to them to keep them happy, yet a city with a humane mind that lies between the two earphones.

As music sparked through the wires through the transducer to the tympanic membrane in my ears, I saw my life backwards- from that of an engineer to that of a doctor, from a fast Mumbai life to the calm Sewagram life. I looked back and saw the old man who had come to the door of the bogie, waved at me. I waved back, forgot that he may have had a sad story but remained contended by the fact that I could make him smile. Perhaps, this is the pursuit that characterizes each of our lives. In the world of selfishness and sadness, we create stories that have happy endings, stories with love and happiness. I have joined this league. With flavours from Mumbai and from Sewagram, I managed to make my own world. A world which has me, some happy people, a world that “lies” to me that things are beautiful yet a world that I can change through what “lies” between those earphones.