Strangers

A friend told me the other day that 'What I write is not who I am.' By the way the compliments go, it sure was a backhanded one. Maybe it was not meant to be one.
I have this strange connect with compliments, they make me smile. I keep smiling for hours after that. But like all the good things in life, conditions apply. I enjoy compliments from strangers or people who I do not know very well. That's what makes me smile.

With the husband, I don't even acknowledge that I have been complimented. I feel awful later. With children, I say the perfunctory "Thank you". With strangers, I am thrilled. This apart from the fact that I take my family and loved ones for granted, I also do not believe them. I feel they just want to see me happy. The stranger has no such emotional connect with me and hence I value the compliment more. Some where that Cheshire cat smile which comes to the lips is also because it reminds me of my youth. The days when the world was rosy. Please Do Not tell me I looked at the world with rose tinted glasses, that is not true. I feel things/ people are harsher now. Or is it me who has become more sensitive? If anything, with age I should be more jaded not more sensitive.

I am trying to figure if the writing is reflecting me or am I able to keep the two apart. Right now, the writing is not a job for me as in I am not paid money for it. I do it willingly and thoughts are always there. The smiles come and go.

The place where I grew up had this huge trend of callers not giving their names and talking to older married or unmarried women. There would be long conversations in hushed whispers. These people who received the calls would be smiling away and the call would be discussed among friends. Guesses would be made about who the caller was. Clandestine meetings would be arranged. Those days by Dhanbad standards, even crossing the man in the market place was clandestine. Little niece that was me then, would be made to talk to the Bhaiya or Uncle. I only figured till this stage.

While working in a happening job, I remember rushing for a meeting to Churchgate. I was walking on the pavement parallel to Oval Maidan. It was a balmy afternoon and the usual office going crowd with a few students sprinkled in.I stopped when a black cat ran across the street. A stranger saw me do this and smiled in a knowing way. That scene and that stranger still bring a smile to my face.

Once in Dhanbad in our new house which was in an apartment block, the sole elevator had Snoopy stickers put up by a stranger for me. There were clues in there that they were for me but in the most adorable way.

So, Thank you, Stranger for bringing that smile along....