Just A Thought...

On my way to town I met a man also heading there. In his hands he held a blue plastic paper bag. I could see that inside the bag were some paint brushes and sketches. This bag he held so close to his chest as if he was hanging onto dear life. His hands looked rough and his nails were dirty, a sure sign that he worked hard with his hands. His clothes were creased and on his feet he wore old dusty shoes that looked like they had been worn for years of rain.

 My thoughts wandered from the man for a moment and I tried to remember the last time that I had worn shoes so old. That was way back in primary school when I had to wear my torn shoes as a punishment by my parents for not being able to take care of my shoes, when we would play in the rain with our school shoes and wake up in the morning to wipe and apply Vaseline onto them before running off to school.

Those were the days when we never worried about what to wear tomorrow because even the school uniform could be worn to church and no one would be bothered about how you were dressed. But don’t jump to conclusions just yet, I would never wear my uniform to church (which was compulsory by the way thanks to my dear dad). I have always been very strict on what to wear when and why? Yes! Come to think of it now, those were some really interesting days when hallo was just hallo, when everyone’s father was the strongest man in the world and the world was just a perfect place with no worries.

 Anyway, I went back to scrutinizing this man as if he was my experiment and wondered whether he was a painter or whether he was just running an errand for someone but I seemed to lean more on the idea that he was probably running an errand. What caught my eye about this man is the way he held his paper bag like a child holds a toy that they would not want to lose. Clearly to me that man looked like a messenger and that was the conclusion I made but then he looked at me and jerked me back to reality.

 I realized that I had been staring at him all this time and he smiled at me exposing brown stained teeth. I was embarrassed and smiled back unwillingly nodding in approval of his presence as if I had just seen him. As I looked away he leaned towards me and whispered as if he was telling me a secret, “I am going to the city.” He said still smiling at me. “I am going to make a living out of drawing and painting, I’m an artist you see.” He gestured towards his paper bag as he said those words.

“What do you do?” he asked me and got me startled for a moment. “I am a student.” I responded and hoped that he would not ask me any more questions. “Well, work hard in your studies so that you do not have to keep looking for a job like me.” I nodded and looked away just in time to see that we were now at my stop.

As I alighted the man whispered to me again, “Work hard, you have the opportunity.” I nodded and stepped down from the vehicle. As the bus left I could not help wondering whether he would actually make a living in the city and whether he even knew where he would spend that night.

 I wonder how many times we get opportunities and overlook them or just refuse to take them, how many times in life do we get so excited over something we can do like cook or write or even sing? How many times do we do the best we can with the little we have? How many times do we appreciate what we have and try to make the best in life? The man in the bus found an opportunity to go to the city and even though there was no certainty that he would be able to make it there, he still went. In life there are plenty of opportunities but seldom do we realize what we have until we have lost it. Just a thought…that turned into paragraphs.