
It was a Sunday. The glowing sun rose upon the city of Colombo like a devil. The traffic was crawling along the main road at a snail’s pace. Hot and exhausted with weariness, passengers were grumbling at the driver and the conductor. Reddened with anger and hunger, all faces were about to burst into pieces like balloons. Ear-splitting music, conductor’s crass behaviour and the staccato journey of the bus fuelled our anger.
“These bus conductors are treating passengers like cattle and don’t know even how to talk.”
“I feel like smashing his face.”
“We have to go home, men. Go faster or I will show you how to drive.”
Filthy words issued at angry lips. Some faces hid behind phone screens, handkerchiefs and handbags. Suddenly, upon hearing a baby crying, our attention drifted from the road traffic. What disturbed his deep sleep ? I asked myself. It may be the blaring sound of the bus horn. Throughout the long journey he was sleeping amid his mother’s warmth and affection like a squirrel. When he started crying, all eyes were fixed on his face.
“It is hotter than hell. Open the window and let the winds come in.”
This idea was from a Parvathi whose heart melted after hearing the baby crying. Even though the mother tried to open the window, it did not move even an inch.
“Wait, wait. You can’t do it with the baby. I will open it for you.”
It was a Mohomed with a well grown beard. “Thank you so much Puthey”. These kind words were out of the mother’s lips with a generous smile. As the wind started blowing through the window, weariness vanished out of the baby’s face. The bus started the journey again. What was unbearable to our ears was its high decibel music because we felt even the vibration of both speakers. The clock struck one. The merciless sun deepened its rays and was glowing like the smoldering coal.
“Akki, cover the glass with my scarf.”
She was neither a Parvathi nor a Fathima. The cross of her rosary had fallen out of her trouser pocket. The sun’s rays were second to people’s endless humanity and sank into obscurity.
There is no distance among religions, races, nations and skin colours because the bridge between humans and humanity is strong and powerful. There are no ethnic conflicts and issues among us because our brotherhood with one another is growing stronger in our hearts. There is no room for misunderstanding about each other because our hearts are bound together with love. If so, what went wrong? Media channels are currying favour with the ruling party.
Politicians are shoving the pills of hatred down our throats in the name of reconciliation and harmony. Their henchmen brainwash our minds through their incendiary speeches, hero-worshiping their favourite political parties. Indeed, the world we live in is not vicious. It is beautiful. The country we live in is not miserable because our country is the pearl of the Indian ocean. As I felt, we need to follow two rules to live a better life. Forget and remember. Forget what we see on TV screens and remember the moments we spend with one another in real life.