I was sitting on bus 235 on the way from after purchasing the goods for drama farewell on August 10, 2006. As I glanced wearily out of the window, I saw an elderly man dragging an umbrella, lugging along beside him a huge red plastic bag filled with random items. The world may see this elderly man and me as two different people living in different worlds apart. But for me, I feel a sense of closeness to this old man. We were living exactly like each other on this planet called Earth. Although the "me" that I portray to the world may be a vibrant, energetic and an insane girl livin a fast paced life in this modern world, deep down inside of me was exactly how this man is moving in life.
I continue to see him drag himself towards the traffic light. It was apparently green. But he still continued walking, as if subconsciously knowing that half of him was already dead..what mattered if the other physical part of him died along with the mental part? And as if he knew that life would not escape him just yet. The impending pungent smell of death had yet to arrive.
Traffic light turned red. Green man came out. Bus 235 stopped and patiently waited for this elderly man to cross the other half of the road.
Suddenly, he was no longer draggin his umbrella nor his feet. His pace gradually picked up speed and the umbrella was even lifted slightly above the ground. Distance that were originally covered within 20 steps were conquered within 13 and 13 steps that were originally covered within 20 seconds were conquered within 15 seconds. For a split second, I almost saw an image of myself flashed in front of me, replacing his. Yes. Without deadlines and expectations, I would have been like that old man, so unmotivated in life, so worn out by every trivial responsibility and event, so discouraged, so conquered and meaningless and ..
But like the old man, when he knew there were expectations from the bus driver and the passengers inside the bus to walk faster, he picked up his speed; similarly, when there are deadlines and expectations, small or overwhelming, I will give the last ounce of strength I have in me to overcome and meet the expected requirements if not more. Even then, the last ounce never really felt like it was the last. Whether voluntarily or reluctantly, it doesn’t matter. What mattered was that we both picked up speed.
From the corner of my eye, as the bus churned its engine and picked up speed, I vaguely saw him slowing down into the midst of darkness. He lost the livid fiery look in his eyes and it was back to the dull monotonous colour it used to convey. The colour I see reflected in the mirror.