It was not too long ago that I had this chance of interacting with a middle aged gentleman while I was waiting at the bus stand, to go some-place where I had to be. And I am sure I must have stuck out like a sore thumb in front of him or something. There I was, dressed in a very naive looking shirt and a dirty pair of denims faded with use and adorned with what else, but dirt and grime.The gentleman, however, seemed to be doing way better than what I was at that point of time – he was draped in the latest  threads, complete with what looked like this season’s coolest (or hottest, depending on the way you look at it!) sunglasses and shoes which seemed to gel perfectly well with the pants he was wearing on top of those sprawling estate, which I would like to believe were shoes!
He was looking at me for quite some-time, I could see. And then, all of a sudden, after almost assessing me in detail, he started exchanging pleasantries. We did exchange some “HIs” and HELLOs” and then, he threw me THE question that everyone, no-matter WHO I meet seem to ask me, what I did for a living. Just as I was about to answer that question of his, my cell phone rang and as I got it out of my pocket to see who was calling me at this hour of the day (it was almost 8:30 in the morning, a time when people generally are in a rush to reach their respective ‘jails’…Oops…Offices, is what I meant), I could see his two pair of eyes (from inside those funky sunglasses) rolled into the sight of that phone in my hands.
After I was done talking on the phone, I said – “I write, I click, I travel, and at times, I ride motorcycles. This is precisely what I do for a living, not in any particular order.” I tell it to him bluntly, almost in a hushed tone and I could see his eyes clearly lighting up, almost in amazement, or may be he thought I was bluffing; I would never know. “Oh, alright, but what do you do for a living?”, he asked me again. And as I explained to him a third time straight, he still seemed a little confused as to what “exactly” I did for a living. And by now, he was throwing those strange nervous glances all over me, and it seemed he was even murmering something strange to himself. I don’t know what his words were, the voices seemed to die down amidst the blaring horns of the passing vehicles. I reckon he didn’t get it, and I doubt he ever will. I say this, because I KNOW he didn’t really understood a word of what I said about what I did for a living, especially, in a time when, since childhood we are all groomed in such a way – be it in our homes, or schools/ colleges, we are almost led to believe that it is a sin if we do ANYTHING else but be doctors, engineers, lawyers and ofcourse a banker (how could I forget THAT one!?). If we do anything “unorthodox”, then, our life is not worth living at all. It is almost like committing a sin and not able to come out of it in any possible way!
I believe people like him just don’t understand that Photography and Motorcycling have infact kept me away from many ‘sins’ in life, if you know what I mean. If ever I am sad, I make it a point to click some pictures or may be go out traveling and all that sadness just seems to vanish away. I am sure he must have been working on some sort of number crunching to keep abreast with what he has been doing all his life, especially after he heard (crystal clear, I hope) that there CAN be a living by creating pictures and traveling all across the country too! At the end of it all, while I moved away, I could see almost a question mark on his face, with his index finger on his forehead almost closing his eyes in the process; he trying to figure out what all I just said while I, on the other hand, almost had this evil grin on my face as I disappeared onto the horizon, which, not surprisingly was filled with blaring car horns, and unending line of traffic jams…
Till next time. 🙂
...in search of that perfect world. 