The jogger's park is never free at this hour of the day, 5:00 pm to 7:00 pm. and rightly so. Beauty and fitness are in vogue. You do not need a Wordsworth to tell you how soothing is the sight of shivering flowers being ravaged by rains, and how intoxicating the aroma oozing out of their sensuality.
Here, at this time you witness innocent noise of the children's play giving competition to the hymns sung by their counterparts- those in their second childhood. the only quiet crowd among his collage is the youth, the youth who are sweating and jogging and indifferent.
The kids need to play, the elderly need to gossip and praise god, the young need to stay fit. These three generations coming here everyday at this time give this park the appearance of a miniature version of the world.There is an air of great intent all around.
The kids are all over the green grass. There is no confining them. The eldest of the lot gather at a particular patch of green grass. It is the same spot everyday. The joggers are on all four sides of the paths fencing the grass. The only thing of capital importance for them is their activity; and today was no exception.
It did not seem to bother them that something lay on one of the four sides of the path. It is not obstructing them anyways. This bundle of rags laid there elongated. On closer examination it appeared to be a body, but it was difficult to make out whether it was drunk or beaten, or asleep or... But that is not the point.
Jog, sing, play. Jogging, singing, playing. There was not absurdity in this everyday affair. It was not without purpose. But even that is not the point. The drunk or the beaten up or the asleep body somehow was pushed to the centerstage.
It curled up and assumed the posture of a helpless child inside the womb. Amazingly enough, it still did not disturb their work. A strange stream like pattern started emerging now. The body lay like a black spot and the joggers continued with their business on either side of it. It was an eye, a blushing eye. The spot like a pupil in the middle and the joggers jogging on either side of it like quivering eyelashes. There appeared to be a kind of shame in the movement of these eyelashes; i saw it from a distance.
Just then this black bundle of rags sat up and opened its eyes. The thumping steps of the joggers juxtaposed with its heartbeats. It sat up in the posture of a bride with its knees pressed to the chest.
It watched the crowd with oppressed anxiety.Not all of them were jogging. Some had come for a leisure walk too. Two people had come out to take their dogs out for a stroll.
But the black body did not feel hated. There is contempt in hatred. There was none here, there was nothing here. It watched the moving crowd with immense scrutiny, till each goal driven mortal crossed it twice. A few used ice cream sticks lay on the ground and nobody took notice of them... either.
A few minutes more and the park would be deserted. Mothers do not let their children stay out for long after the sun goes down. The young people are perpetually pressed beneath the things-to-be-done. The oldest of the lot are in the habit of sleeping early so they can wake up early; that is, the physical action of sleeping and waking. They had devoted a huge morsel of time to god. Then with unnoticeable motion the black bundle of rags, shut its eyes and resumed it former posture.
Tomorrow morning, the garbage will be cleared. That is why this park is so dear to everybody. Upon entering, they always find it neat and clean. There will be no ice-cream sticks tomorrow.
Here, at this time you witness innocent noise of the children's play giving competition to the hymns sung by their counterparts- those in their second childhood. the only quiet crowd among his collage is the youth, the youth who are sweating and jogging and indifferent.
The kids need to play, the elderly need to gossip and praise god, the young need to stay fit. These three generations coming here everyday at this time give this park the appearance of a miniature version of the world.There is an air of great intent all around.
The kids are all over the green grass. There is no confining them. The eldest of the lot gather at a particular patch of green grass. It is the same spot everyday. The joggers are on all four sides of the paths fencing the grass. The only thing of capital importance for them is their activity; and today was no exception.
It did not seem to bother them that something lay on one of the four sides of the path. It is not obstructing them anyways. This bundle of rags laid there elongated. On closer examination it appeared to be a body, but it was difficult to make out whether it was drunk or beaten, or asleep or... But that is not the point.
Jog, sing, play. Jogging, singing, playing. There was not absurdity in this everyday affair. It was not without purpose. But even that is not the point. The drunk or the beaten up or the asleep body somehow was pushed to the centerstage.
It curled up and assumed the posture of a helpless child inside the womb. Amazingly enough, it still did not disturb their work. A strange stream like pattern started emerging now. The body lay like a black spot and the joggers continued with their business on either side of it. It was an eye, a blushing eye. The spot like a pupil in the middle and the joggers jogging on either side of it like quivering eyelashes. There appeared to be a kind of shame in the movement of these eyelashes; i saw it from a distance.
Just then this black bundle of rags sat up and opened its eyes. The thumping steps of the joggers juxtaposed with its heartbeats. It sat up in the posture of a bride with its knees pressed to the chest.
It watched the crowd with oppressed anxiety.Not all of them were jogging. Some had come for a leisure walk too. Two people had come out to take their dogs out for a stroll.
But the black body did not feel hated. There is contempt in hatred. There was none here, there was nothing here. It watched the moving crowd with immense scrutiny, till each goal driven mortal crossed it twice. A few used ice cream sticks lay on the ground and nobody took notice of them... either.
A few minutes more and the park would be deserted. Mothers do not let their children stay out for long after the sun goes down. The young people are perpetually pressed beneath the things-to-be-done. The oldest of the lot are in the habit of sleeping early so they can wake up early; that is, the physical action of sleeping and waking. They had devoted a huge morsel of time to god. Then with unnoticeable motion the black bundle of rags, shut its eyes and resumed it former posture.
Tomorrow morning, the garbage will be cleared. That is why this park is so dear to everybody. Upon entering, they always find it neat and clean. There will be no ice-cream sticks tomorrow.
