Happily, by the side of the road to be a friend to man
My house stands by the side of the road and it has been an extremely convenient location. The children boarded and alighted from their school bus right at the doorstep. Vegetable vendors stop at the gate and I can carry loads of purchase directly into the kitchen. Visitors, delivery persons, postmen and meter readers can locate the address easily. It was not for nothing that the seller from whom I bought this property flagged its location as a plus point and pegged the price a few notches high due to this advantage.
These benefits, however, seem trivial as compared to the downsides. Its location right on the road makes it a fitting receptacle of dust and dirt. Moving traffic, repair works, construction activities rouse so much rubble that no amount of cleaning up is adequate to keep the house dust-free. All surfaces are at all times covered by a fine layer of dust and I need to hold a duster in the hand perpetually to keep the house presentable.
Being a resident of this roadside house, I become by default a receiver of all kinds of imaginable noises. Sitting at the window the ear is taken up by the clamour of traffic. No respite is to be got even when darkness falls and the day’s business slows down. This is the time for youngsters to roam around, pause at the gate of the house and chat incessantly about their misadventures, peppered with a liberal sprinkling of cuss words. Further into the night, a forlorn lover alights on the berm whose voluble talking with his faraway girlfriend on his cell phone reveals the whole range of emotions from love to hate.
The most unbearable nuisance, however, is caused by drivers who vanish after parking their vehicles right in front of the gate leaving me fuming and fretting, unable to leave in time for an urgent appointment. Pasting a ‘no-parking’ sign on the gate has not helped much. Finally, I have taken to calling the police and reporting wrong parking. On some days, I had to do this four times and I grew bitter. To live by the roadside was becoming a bother.
A new perspective dawned on me when I came across a lovely poem by Sam Walter Foss, ‘Let me live by the side of the road and be a friend to man’. I realised there was another dimension. When labourers repair the road in sweltering heat, they come to my house asking for water as they partake their frugal meals at the roadside. Whenever there is a minor accident, I am asked to provide first aid to the injured using my medicine box. Flowers from my garden are plucked by devotees, who offer them at the nearby temple. Strangers ask me for directions to their destination. Tired passers-by rest awhile at the platform by the wall of the house.
It occurred to me that I would rather live happily by the side of the road all my life and be a friend to man.
WHEN LABOURERS REPAIR THE ROAD IN SWELTERING HEAT, THEY COME TO MY HOUSE ASKING FOR WATER. WHENEVER THERE IS A MINOR ACCIDENT, I’M ASKED TO PROVIDE FIRST AID