His state of soul
A citizen in search of tranquility
The air is filled with the drone of trucks, buses, cars, and bikes. That must be the traffic wheeling along the adjacent Delhi-Jaipur highway. And yet, so much bliss and stillness here. Everything feels so far from the world of today. No wifi, no Twitter, no trolling, no tension.
This public park in a Gurugram sector is cocooned in peace. The trees, the plants, the uneven grass, the uncut hedges, the slides for children—all appear like frozen figures in a landscape painting. The only (slow) movement is of a sari-wearing gardener working by the hedges. The park does have a few other people but most of these men are lying sprawled on benches, their bags serving as their pillows.
One young man is sitting barefoot on a bench. His shoes are lying on the ground. He is staring ahead… at what? “I’m feeling shaant,” says Suneel. He is dressed casually in jeans and a T-shirt but has a fat bag beside him (placed on the other side). “It has my laptop, among other things”.
Suneel may be a man with a day-job. If so, why is he idling in a park? It’s not a weekend. An accountant, he explains that his employers give him a holiday during the weekdays. Of course, he could have utilised this free day by staying at the house— and be with his family—in nearby Basai village.
Suneel gazes at the white elephant (cement) installed in the park. “Sometimes I want to be away from home.” Only in his mid-20s, the man sounds like somebody much older who has transcended the worldliness that all of us are attached to. But that is true only up to a point. Turns out he also wants to have a better position in the office, a better salary, and the ability to give his family all the conveniences they desire. But these are dreams, he says. Who knows if they can ever be realised.
Meanwhile, here is the sunlight, and the “shanti.”
Suneel bends down and, perhaps unconsciously, plucks off a fistful of bushy leaves growing under the bench.