When the tears are out!

I have a weakness. Not that I recently discovered it, of late I started realizing I’m quite abnormal with the way I react to tears. When someone cries, when I see tears, I hide myself out. At least I would make an Ostrich right there with my vision closed. Apparently, that’s not what I want to do when I see myself as a mentally strong person, or at least someone who tries to be one. 

Saturday afternoon, I was waiting at the Toronto subway station to visit the hairstylist. I was excited; I always wanted a professional designer to do my hair, but did not have the luxury and the readiness to do it in Chennai. I decided it’s time and booked an appointment previous evening. I’m very particular about my hair and beard; to me a millimeter extra cut on my sideburn is enough to push into depression for a couple of days. So, I had every reason to be excited.

A girl breezed her entry walking from the stairs with the noise from her wooden boots echoing an otherwise empty station, walked pass me and stood next to me. Of course, the very thought of a pretty girl right next did increase my excitement but was overshadowed by a tinge of dismay that had it happened on the way back. The train arrived before I carried my thoughts any deeper.

The compartment hardly had people in it. I couldn’t believe my starts as she sat right opposite to me. I started looking at her at regular intervals to notice with my every look her color changed, from red to reddish to bloody red only to hit my peanut brain that she was crying. I cursed myself for being there as I sensed a sudden downfall on my excitement.

Few minutes later, in the next station, an old Chinese couple got into our compartment and took the right side corner seat. They were too old to be categorized just old; a handshake would be merely enough to crush them. They kept on talking something that I could not understand a bit. They talked, laughed, talked and laughed again then they grabbed each other’s hands and continued talking. The attention moved from the crying girl to the old couple.

The old woman who looked the younger of the two whispered on the old man’s ear and they laughed again. It looked beautiful to see them kiss, left me smiling. I did not realize that I was gazing at a romance mostly we tend to ignore.

I often come across couples’ romance in the train and when that happens really close to me, cleaning one nail with the other or seeing the advertisement hoardings around helped me appear normal. I even wondered during my initial days on why the companies don’t have cross culture training on how to act here. However, I felt soft after the back to back happenings.

We four got down at the same station. I then reached the hair salon and met the stylist. The stylist had a scissor that he said costs more than a second hand Toyota Camry, Japanese handmade that is as good as a mini sword, sharper than anything I could imagine. Whenever someone speaks about sharpness, I could only imagine the compass nailed during my school days, to me nothing on earth could be sharper than that. I became softer thinking of that pain. I closed my eyes on the cushion after discussing what to cut, what to leave and where to have what; leaving my head to someone I don’t know a bit. 

The train incidents were waiting for my eyes to close.  Why was she crying? Must be a problem with her relationship, why are relationships so painful, maybe not, might be a problem with her family? A loss of someone or is someone close to her sick? What if had I went and asked her, she might have looked at me like an idiot or even called police? Maybe, but, isn’t that wrong to leave a place when someone is crying? That’s ok, enough, started realizing that my stupidity was widening.

Then the old couple occupied my thoughts. How are they so happy even after so many years? How could they manage to have this much of love still left? How many do I know share the same level of intimacy even after these many years? Haven’t they faced any issues anytime? Must be a combination of countless sacrifices, understanding, trust, respect and some unconditional love on top keeps them where they are.  It was heartwarming to even think of it, started thinking of few other things I could not mention here and felt some moisture on my eyes before the stylist shook my shoulders.

It’s over sir, he said and I opened my eyes to see the mirror. Felt like someone pulled me back to earth from nowhere, the moisture then transformed into drops. 

I have a weakness. Apparently, that’s not what I want to do when I see myself as a mentally strong person, or at least someone who tries to be one. 

Thanks for your time. Have a great day folks!