Fiction Happiness India Life Top

The Buddha Speaks – 1

The A.B. Godrej road was jam-packed and was teeming with four wheelers, honking their way to reach work places at early ‘office-traffic’ hours in the morning. The sweltering summer at its peak was augmenting the exasperation of the commuters. The AC was at its peak too in Siddharth’s car but the heat outside seemed to have an infuriating effect on him.

He constantly kept wiping his forehead and blew the horn effortlessly. The traffic was moving sluggishly and with every inch that the car moved Siddharth stole a gawky look out of the window to estimate the time that would take to reach office. Godsmack and Metallica no longer seemed to keep Siddharth amused in his strenuous journey.

He had now started analyzing the massive hoarding of Limca that stood right across the flyover in front of him. He was reading the brand new jingle Limca had come up with to accentuate their presence in the market. Before he could move into his pensive world he had to accelerate to keep up with the meandering pace of the traffic. Siddharth decided to lower the side window to let out the suffocation created by the air conditioning.

Just as he did that another car pulled across by his side – a same metallic Honda City as his. A thirty something man, bald with a few trinkets of hair loosely spread all over his head, dressed in a muddy orange kurta, with a triangular sandalwood inscription on his forehead and a necklace of holy ‘rudraksh’ beads around his neck was reading a book in the car and the chauffer was busy honking. Siddharth looked away, pondering over the Limca hoarding once more.

He looked back again, this time to see the title of the book- Reflections of the Mind. As he was about to see the name of the author the man lowered the book to his lap and raised his head. His eyes met Siddharth’s. He smiled and Siddharth smiled back. “Which book?” Siddharth asked. “Reflections of the Mind by Siddharth Sharan” said the man politely. “Is he the same writer who wrote The Inner Eye?” enquired Siddharth.

The man nodded his head in affirmation and added, “This is his second book.” The traffic was moving   at its dawdling speed and Siddharth was getting frustrated. Suddenly a two wheeler bumped in between, hurriedly making its way through the rush adding to the commotion. Siddharth gave a livid look to the two- wheeler driver and tried to move his car by inches to beat the driver.

The two-wheeler accelerated too. Siddharth and the two-wheeler had started a mini contest. Finally the two-wheeler was stuck in an unpleasant position between Siddharth’s and the man’s cars. Seeing Siddharth’s restiveness the man cajoled, “Why do you look so angry? It’s a routine affair. No one can help it. No one’s fault you see.” “Someone has to be guilty.

How does the traffic get jammed everyday then?” said Siddharth bluntly. “Don’t you know how it happens? Well, are you guilty?” asked the man. Siddharth was angry and he did not know how to respond. The jam cleared and the car by his side speeded fast before he could say anything. As the car leaped ahead the man peeped out of the window and waved a goodbye to Siddharth.

 

The second part of this series will be published in a couple of days. Stay Tuned. 

 

FacebookTwitterGoogleLinkedIn


4 comments

Leave a Reply


Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *