My walking experiences

Walking has been a vital part of my life, not because it is healthy n stuff, it is because I have a bit too many memories associated with that. I have always walked ever since my school days, long walks with no destination, super long walks with a friend, late night walks just to have a cup of coffee from a street vendor in Gandhi Bazaar (Bangalore, India).

My usual walk will be, well, used to be mostly alone, not on a common route but in a familiar area. Thoughts just flow in my mind as I walk, analysing myself, my day and people, people I meet, my family and the circumstances I am in and the people are in. It has always been something that I would love to do. A good company, a long walk talking to myself as I see and watch things around is like a bliss.

I have been on frequent walks when I was in India, well at least once a week and here in the UK I used to never go for long walks here. I feel it a bit intimidating and like someone is always watching you. I have never felt comfortable to go on walks here because an asian guy walking alone late in the night is an easy target and with all the drunkards around, walk would not be appealing. Lately I had been on a walk, not late night, sometime just after the evening when the temperature was just right for a walk. I was remembering all those beautiful walks in India as I walk and was talking to myself (yes, I always do) and a Brit walked beside me smiling. I smiled back and asked, “Why are you smiling? Did u hear me speaking?” There was a reply that shocked me, guess what?...... He said “I thought you heard me speaking” I was with a blank expression and he walked off. I was smiling after that and was happy to learn that I am not the only one in the world who speaks to himself, there are a few more and I had just met one. Isn’t it cool?

After all everyone is a human

Another quotable experience in public transport, this time not in the train. It was in a bus. Well, I would say an empty bus. One teenage couple; I and a white family with no woman were the only passengers in the bus. It was pretty evident that the woman of the family was not present in their lives. It was a family of two little girls and a father. The father was sitting in the front seat of the bus and the two girls were standing next to him holding the pole. The bus driver was a bit of an Indian auto driver kinds and was speeding in the narrow roads of Guildford. At one point, he applied brakes and one of the girls fell over in the bus. There was an expression in the face of the father. A mixture of anxiety over his daughter and annoyance over the driver. I can never forget that expression. It made me feel that we are all humans, after all humans. We all feel the same; we may be different in the colour of our skin or the way we speak, or the way we live, but all show the basic animal instinct to love and being loved.