Finding my own path

The rush all around me is nothing but a blur in my vision. I hear noises, splashes of tea from the tea stall behind me, crunch of a biscuit, crumple of newspaper strewn about, cries of babies like sirens, hushes of panicking mothers and even the lazy yawn of a scrawny cat. The drizzle of the shower falls on me but I don’t move. I feel everything but nothing at the same time. I don’t even know what I’m supposed to do. Empty and void of all emotions is my mind.

Suddenly my eyes fall upon a father hugging and kissing his daughter of about my own age. I hear him saying, “Promise you would eat on time.” and before the girl could response he goes on with “And never to stay out late and never ever to forget to call me twice a day and- ” “Dad I have heard this lecture for the umpteenth time now. No more please!” The father starts to say something but the girl gets on the train that is about to depart with “I got the message dad but no more of blah blah blah. Love you”. The train started and off went the girl. She had not noticed but I did. Her father’s eyes were glistening.

Suddenly I became aware that my own cheeks were streaming with tears. But I was more than sure that it was not because of the scene I just saw. My unconscious mind had travelled back to a time when my dad had done the same to me. “No, no more of it all Sheza, no more, you stepped out so that you could pursue your dreams”, I advice myself.

At one and twenty I am all alone in this railway station with only a bag full of all my belongings I had bought with my money, my certificates, medals and a wallet with a few hundreds and a debit card. The sky is starting to get dark and the fact that I had been here for three whole hours dawns upon me. I know that all what I’ve left behind are nice and comfy but never will I forget that it all oppressed me as well. I sigh feeling that I had finally taken my life into my hands with not a clue of where to go and what to do.

The climate makes me shiver in my loose shirt and pants, so I hug myself for warmth. A tea cup suddenly stands in front of my face. I lift my eyes to see the person offering it and see a kind looking face of an old lady with graying hair and spectacles on her nose. When I am about to thank and refuse she shakes her head and says, “I know you have no idea of what you are doing or what you should do. But trust me dear, you really need something warm now. Do the kind act of accepting this old lady’s offer.” I accept the tea because of the kindness of the woman and because I really need it.

 She sits beside me and starts, “Long ago maybe thirty years before I too sat like this forlorn and lost in my own world. I had lost everything. My family, children, house and everything I had to call mine.” She stops to see if I am listening. As she sees me piqued with interest she continues, “A fire accident it was. I was devastated. Had no place to go, no relatives to console me, not a soul to assure me that everything will be alright soon.” I had no words, for I had no idea what I should say to her. Still she continued, “You know what dear? Life is a weird teacher who teaches her lessons through our own mistakes and pain. She teaches you that you could love again, that you could breathe freely, that you could stand on your feet again and best of all that you are strong enough to stand up and smile after a fall which gave you wounds. All you got to do is follow your heart and passion, make mistakes and learn from them.” I am stunned when I realize that this kind old woman is indeed giving me the answers for my unasked questions. I try to register all that she said and when I turn my head to talk to her, she’s not there! “Man is she my godmother or what?” I think out aloud while turning my head in all the directions of the stations in search of the woman who just cleared my cloud of anguish.

I feel fresh and hopeful after four complete hours of grief and pain. “Passion” that word brings back the reason, for which I had left behind everything that had mattered to me, with a force of a charging bull. Now that my always active brain had been fueled with hope it starts to function with an accelerated speed.

The big white clock on the opposite wall reads 7.00 p.m. and beside it the digital schedule shows the trains available at 7.00 p.m. along with their destinations. “Colombo” holds my sight. I run all the possibilities in my head. I turn with a clearness in my eyes and a smile on my lips. “One second class ticket to Matale”, I say to the old man at the counter.

I board the train that awaits its passengers and start planning my future from that moment onwards. After a few minutes the train starts to move leaving all the noise of the station behind. The cool breeze from the window greets me and I warmly welcome the sleep that taps at my door, so that I could be fresh for the new chapter of my life in Kandy.

Author:- Badurdeen. F. Ayesha

(pictures are for you to get the feeling , so don't mind the difference in the look of the character)