Dil Saaf Rakhna Hai

I had posted the following as an anonymous post at a 68K strong, women centric group on FB, yesterday. The number of times I got notified today that people wanted to share it outside the group by copy pasting the text, I thought it best to post it somewhere with my name ... Preferably at a dormant blog. :) 

I have a set route, a set time. I pass through that road every day. At almost exactly the same time: A few minutes after 4pm.

Today, I left the office unhappy. Someone, far junior, assumed being slighted and went on a ballistic. They were mean. They were disrespectful. They were obnoxious. Also, they were grossly mistaken in their assumption. I hadn't said or implied anything that they assumed I had. 

I kept telling myself, "janay do, roza lag raha ho ga!" I stayed quiet, but God help me, mujh say janay nahi dia ja raha tha.

As I drove towards home, I kept chewing on their words in my mind. Like the way you blend your meethi lassi, all frothy and nice. Ghuma ghuma kay. My mind was like that, a blender. The bitterness of the interaction kept frothing. Till inside my mind there was nothing but jhaag hi jhaag, and I felt nothing but rancour.

The funny thing is, I am always reciting something while driving. Some ayat. Most of the times it is Musa's prayer (رَبِّ إِنِّي لِمَا أَنْزَلْتَ إِلَيَّ مِنْ خَيْرٍ فَقِيرٌ), sometimes it is Yusuf's prayer (أَنْتَ وَلِيِّي فِي الدُّنْيَا وَالْآخِرَةِ), at still other times it is Zachariah's prayer (وَلَمْ أَكُنۢ بِدُعَآئِكَ رَبِّ شَقِيًّا). Long story short, I am never not reciting. It is like my default state. Today, however, my default state was kaput. I was hurting, and rirhking the bitterness of something ugly, endlessly.

I was a little short of the half way when I realised that I had not been reciting my usual wird. I tried. twice, thrice, but after a few attempts, my mind was again back at: "how could they say this when I had been nothing but kind to them ... how could they!"

Zehan abhi issi whirlpool main tha that I passed by an old man sitting at a footpath. By his side lay a stack of items, some still stocked on his bicycle. He wasn't a beggar. He was somewhere near 80's. He wore a suit, an old, jaded, faded suit, just like his own self, a sad relic of a past that has since long been erased from active, meaningful existence.

I had never seen this man there before. This is a strictly military controlled area. Yahan chirya ka bacha par nahi maarta. Finding a hawker here, and such a hawker at that!

I had a car speeding right behind me so I couldn't stop, but I felt right there that I couldn't go ahead either. so I kept driving till I arrived at the next U-turn and turned back. I was with him a few minutes later.

He was selling dupattay. I have a different kind of dressing. I don't buy dupattay. But I bought some from him. "Ap kahan say aey hain?", I asked while going through the stack of dupattas there.

"Main tou roaz is waqt yaheen hota hoon." He replied, smiling.

I've told you I have a set route, a set time. I pass through that road every day. At almost exactly the same time: A few minutes after 4pm.

I have never seen him there.

I didn't argue. Selected a few dupattas and handed him a few thousands in excess of the due amount. He saw the bills in my hand and flatly refused.

"Ye main nahi lay sakta. Ap bus itnay (amount) day dain."

I tried insisting gently, very aware of the fact that your empathy does not give you the license to walk over a person's self respect. But he didn't extend his hand.

When I finally changed the amount I was offering he took it and said, "aik baat maanain gi?"

Meray mind main red flags ka aik lashkar uth khara hoa. 'Great! NOW he's going to make a demand!'

I nodded still.

"Jo dil ko bura lagay na, ussay dil main jagah nahi detay. Apnay dil main buri baat ikhati nahi honay daini. Wo dil saaf nahi rehnay day gi. Aap nay dil," his veined quivering hand pointed to his chest, "Udhar jorna hai," and he raised his crooked finger towards heaven. "Usko bataein sab kuch. Kisi nay kuch bura kaha, kisi insaan ko kuch batanay ki zaroorat nahi. Logoan ko kuch nahi kehna. Bus Usko bata dia. Baat khatam. Dil saaf rakhna hai. Ye Uska hai!"

He paused. I was trying to maintain a polite smile, staring at him.

"Bus yehi baat maan'ni hai ap nay. Apna dil saaf rakhna hai. Us main kuch bura nahi bharnay daina!"

I nodded, said Salam, and left.

But have I?

It's been over 6 hours, and I am still parked beside that bicycle on that footpath, mentally.

Am not seeking any validation here. I just wanted to share my experience of life on this unusual Thursday evening. And hoping that like I found a message for me in this episode, someone else may also be able to find it for themselves!

Dil saaf rakhna hai!