I was looking outside filming every moment for my story, beautiful life, and lovely songs. A road trip how cool and amusing will that be. Everyone is in a lockdown and I am feeling the air on the highway with smooth roads and no traffic at all. Indeed, Life is a picnic and a celebration.
HEY THERE IT’S IRIS,
This post is what I was not supposed to write about and wasn’t something I thought of communicating anytime in future, but I lingered my scheduled blog because I feel the need to express and for us to know.
Driving the highway few days ago, I felt elated and that very moment outside is worth the capture because the source of vitamin D wasn’t my pills this time. Just when I was feeling my road trip and the tune started to set in, I cared to see across the highway, down there where we just see farms and are totally ignorant towards anything that exists there at all. It started when we stopped for a while, just when I was clicking a picture of the magnificence of nature, my camera caught something I should have seen long time ago, in between those beautiful green farms after zooming a bit, I saw a lady who was doing the labour in the hot day light and her two very small children were standing there with two bags of grains innocently thinking that those two bags of grains will write their future. This scene was still an aesthetic picture to me, a #reality of life post. I went back in my car, turned on the AC and insisted on moving.
As we proceeded I was going through the pictures and I saw something I didn’t notice before, that lady’s hands were bleeding and she was smiling because her children were looking at her, looking for hope on their mother’s face that they will have a better life, she didn’t want to disappoint them. The children were wearing pretty decent clothes but that lady was wearing a rugged sari, almost like it was the only one she had. I had goose bumps thinking of the contrast our lives have, what I found beauty was their survival, what I found a perfect post for my story is the reality of their life which might never change. A tear in my eyes is what I felt after I finally understood a disheartening juxtapose.
Its chilling to imagine being in their place, they go through so much but still maintain that smile on their face, that love and unity for their family. They understand sacrifice on entirely next level which we privileged ones can never understand to that extent. What upsets me is that I was complaining about the AC and the trip being so long. After this realisation struck in, my car was running too fast in comparison to the villages that crossed by. All I remember was looking around to make the invisible visible for me, I saw men walking on the roads to reach back their home, people stuffed in vans and trucks to see their loved ones while I was sitting in a fully equipped car with enough room to stretch my body. How ungrateful can we actually be was all I could think about.
We have a security of life but who is asking them that do they feel secured about themselves or their children? Why is this biasness? I know we can’t get out of our house today and help them out but what we can do is to be grateful for what we have. Feel the gratitude and let that supreme power know that you value it beyond a doubt.
What I learned from that one picture I accidently or should I say, was meant to take is that they feel emotions more than we do because they are grounded to the reality and struggles of life and those struggles don’t make them weak but strong enough to give a hope they can’t even see remotely for the happiness of their child. They love beyond we can understand and give more than we can ever give because they know the value of love and what it is like to receive. Sometimes, they lose track because of the circumstances they are brought into but we all have a story don’t we? Knowing what you have and being grateful about it will always keep you humble no matter what you do in life.
So, the next time you complain about your tea being too sweet. Remember someone there is living on sour milk and still smiling.