This morning, as I headed towards the airport, I called up my seventh thru tenth grade Geography teacher – Mrs. Bhowmic in India. We talked about those good old days – when I had a full head of hair (I know, it is difficult to believe it today, but trust me, I was not born this way 🙂 ). Evidently, she follows my random thoughts in my blog/Facebook. And she encouraged me to write a book some day. You know, many people have encouraged me multiple times to consider writing a book. One even gave me a book on how to publish your first book. Till date, while I often feel the urge to lend words to my thoughts, I have never felt the urge to publish a book. But I know things change and I change too. Maybe some day…

But here is how much things change. Back in seventh grade, if you ever told me that people actually will want to read what I write, I would have laughed as hearty a laugh a thin-rail constitution could cough up and come back with some smart Alec comment like “Yeah! And someday I will lose all my hair too!!” (I know, I know, I was gullible then).

However, every time somebody encourages me to write, my thoughts go back to my desk mate in ninth grade – Dibyendu Dutta. As I said, he sat next to me a whole year on the same bench. He was my hero when it came to composing in English. At that early age, he had mastered the art of writing just about anything in the most beautiful way possible. His command on the language English, his ability to stitch various thoughts together and his great ability to pun almost always produced essays that flowed like some mellifluous music.

There was this weekend homework our English teacher – Mrs. Biswas had given us to write an essay on. The subject was “Sound”. As you can imagine, I approached the topic with clinical and yet scientifically sound approach. I was not much of an English writer, but I knew a thing or two about Math and Physics and all that. So, my output was extremely dry but unchallengeable. It started something like “Sound is a form of energy….”. If my memory serves me right, I immediately followed up my impactful first statement with “It travels at the speed of 330 m/s in air” 🙂 or something like that. Again, any Physics teacher would be proud of me. An English teacher? Not so much!!!

Our teacher had talked about Dibyendu’s essay and how well written it was. In fact, she made him read out his essay to the whole class. He got up and started ” ‘Waaah’ wailed the baby as soon as it came out to this world. And what a beautiful sound it was to everybody present around the baby”…. and so on. And of course, I was like “Dude! what has that got to do with writing about Sound? You forgot to mention that it is a transversal wave form of energy. Remember last year, our teacher told us sound cannot travel in vacuum? Man, I need to talk to our Physics teacher about you”… 🙂

What an idiot I was!!

Dibyendu Dutta, if you ever read this blog in the future, I just wanted to give a big shout out to you. You were not only outstanding, you certainly have served as a great inspiration to me till this date. I fervently hope that some of your talent eventually rubbed off on me. After all, we sat only a few inches apart!!

I have a certain routine in the morning in those days that I do not travel. I usually get up in the morning, remind myself that this might be the last day of my life (I know it is not exactly the most upbeat thought but certainly good for me since it makes me to pause for a second and remind myself who and what around my life are truly important – as I feverishly brush down my teeth 🙂 ) and then before I go for my run, coffee and quiet time, I usually volunteer to drop one of the girls to school.

The journey to school is not exactly the most conversation-filled trip you will experience. Usually they are half asleep (Niki) or have their ears plugged with some music (Tasha). Regardless, it is good to be just next to them for a few early minutes of the morning. As Tasha has started driving, it has quickly dawned on me that driving them around is a privilege that is soon going to be taken away from me. In my house, therefore, I am almost always the one to volunteer first to ferry the kids around if I am at home.

Every single day when I take one of them to school, there are the familiar scenes on the road – which, no doubt, you experience too. The long queues of cars at the intersections, the impatient parents speeding up and cutting off – they are late for class, I presume and the serene beauty of the early morning – harshly interrupted by the occasional car with high beams on your eyes coming from the other side.

And there is that massive traffic jam in front of one of the schools that we cross on our way. There is no traffic light there but usually there is a local policeman or policewoman who is there to direct traffic. The concentrated rush of people wanting to go in or come out can back up traffic for some time. In any case, my usual habit is to lower my window as I approach that point and wave at the police(wo)man as I drive by (as I said, that one is not our school). I readily get pulled up by my daughters that it is weird to wave at strangers and that anyways it is too cold outside to pull the windows down 🙂

Today, in that dark early morning, as I was passing that gentleman, as usual I waved. Most of the days, they do not notice it – or notice it too late – they are so focused on the oncoming traffic. I am sure those screaming headlights do not make it any easier either. (In my defense, I do have my neon color running shirts on to make it a little easier for them to spot me 🙂 ). But, something different happened today.

Imagine the gentleman in the middle of the road. He has his left arm raised to stop traffic from the other side taking a turn into the school and his right arm was constantly making that “keep moving” gesture to tell us to continue on while frantically looking left and right to make sure that he was aware of all the vehicles coming from all directions. And then for a split second, he saw me waving at me. With his hands completely occupied with his traffic duties, he instinctively bowed as I sped past him.

That was very powerful. He had all the reason to keep focusing on his work. He certainly had no ability to wave back. He obviously did not have much of a time to react. His instincts took over and he simply bowed.

For some reason, I felt unbelievably good. And the rest of the drive to my starting point for running, I kept on trying to understand why was I feeling so good. And I concluded that it was because of his simple gesture to acknowledge my presence. It was like “Hey, I do not know who you are. I do not know if I will ever see you or get to know you ever. But you know what? You are a human being. As am I. Life is beautiful because the paths of strangers cross each other and create opportunities to enrich each other’s lives. Let me enrich yours by acknowledging your presence!!”

The rest of the run, it bothered me that so many times I simply forget that sometimes the best gifts in life can be given without much cost, time or even thought. How often I get lost in my own stuff and forget to acknowledge the presence of all those around me. How often I forget that this might be the last day of my life.

I think I should brush my teeth more often!!

“There was a man who wanted to transcend his suffering so he went to a Buddhist temple to find a Master to help him. He went to the Master and asked, “Master, if I meditate four hours a day, how long will it take me to transcend?”
The Master looked at him and said, “If you meditate four hours a day, perhaps you will transcend in ten years.”
Thinking he could do better, the man then said, “Oh, Master, what if I meditated eight hours a day, how long will it take me to transcend?”
The Master looked at him and said, “If you meditate eight hours a day, perhaps you will transcend in twenty years.”
“But why will it take me longer if I meditate more?” the man asked.
The Master replied, “You are not here to sacrifice your joy or your life. You are here to live, to be happy, and to love. If you can do your best in two hours of meditation, but you spend eight hours instead, you will only grow tired, miss the point, and you won’t enjoy your life. Do your best, and perhaps you will learn that no matter how long you meditate, you can live, love, and be happy.”

Excerpt From: Don Miguel Ruiz. “The Four Agreements.”