A Voice Amidst Chaos

On my daily two-hour (yeah, that long) commute on the way to lectures, I sat with earplugs on, fighting the urge to give in to sleep and avoid the risk of missing my station. That's when I heard a strong and melodious voice, powerful enough to break through my oblivious bubble of music, yet deep enough to bring me back to life and reality. I saw a man donning a simple white kurta and holding a walking stick in his hand, with a carry bag by his side - singing. Despite obvious difficulties with his sight, evident from the stick he carried, he sang with a crystal clear, warm, and brave voice, which seemed to protect him from the world and its problems.

At each station, he got down and changed bogies, and with each stop, his song changed from a sad number to a happy one within moments. No formal training but his voice felt like magic minus the overdramatic reactions of the judges on "reality" television.

A man in the opposite first-class compartment quietly passed him a 10-rupee coin through the metal grills after asking, "Aap hi hai, jo gaana gaa rahe the?" (Are you the one who was singing?) The man nodded. He proceeded to sing two more numbers, and a few others also followed suit before the next station approached. The same man who had paid him earlier handed him a note this time, saying, "Apne gale ka dhyan rakhiye" (Take care of your throat).he said.

Tragic flaws, I'm sure we've come across them so many times - human folly, flawed humans - humans this and humans that, and how we're doomed right from birth. Until our very end, human life is like a string of events, a path of self-exploration, both conscious and unconscious, which makes our follies way more obvious. The Earth, the space, the oceans - we've polluted it all, and each day, you'd find at least a minimum of 20 articles, each one being a variety of some illegal activity someone's doing or did. But amidst all of this, there is one tiny, tiny speck of "something" that still gives this seemingly pointless existence some sort of reasoning, or, for the lack of a better word, maybe a meaning.

Kindness. Yes, a generic thing, I know. But in the whirlpool of terrible news, who would tell us about these events - the small but equally important ones? Unless it's some humongous project sanctioned by a politician or a social service worker dedicating their whole lives to something important, we often fail to comprehend that kindness exists. And so, we go ahead with our lives. The news of a murder, a robbery, or a serial killer with his crazy "skills" is what remains with us daily, instilling anxiety and a constant urge to look out for ourselves against other humans, fear has a deeper impact on us than kindness ever can instill. It will always be sad.

Then come these rare situations, knocking on our doors, which remind us of kindness or, in the real, true sense - humanness. Deep within our follies, anger, jealousy, agony - maybe we are all just kind, soft humans before the world does things to change that.

Kindness manifests in many ways, especially in the small and quiet things we do.

His voice reminded me of what it means to be human.

Maybe existence isn't that pointless at all.