Life in Bengaluru, an IT city, follows its own course, characterized by a constant rat race. The younger generation relentlessly pursues their ambitions, leaving little time for meaningful connections with others. During my brief stay in Hopefarm, I embraced the identity of a Bengalurian, distinct from the bustling atmosphere of Delhi. The city's customized lifestyle compelled me to observe its workings from a fresh perspective, seeking to understand the emotions and experiences of the people around me.
Every day, near my residence, I witnessed a familiar sight that captured my attention: women engrossed in small businesses, unaffected by external conditions as they stood by the roadside, striving to earn money for their families. Their incredible spirit and unwavering dedication portrayed a form of women empowerment, elevating their standards of living.
To break away from my daily routine, I often ventured outside, even though the distance between Hopefarm and Sanchandra was short. I paid close attention to the various activities taking place, such as the creation of flower garlands, the sale of coconut water, and vegetable vending.
While walking along the pavement, a small temple near a gated society caught my eye. The simplicity of the rectangular stone idol of Hanuman, adorned with brush-painted images, intrigued me. Adjacent to the square chamber, there was a cabin where a lady named Bhagya amma sold flowers and puja materials. Intrigued, I waited in front of her for a few minutes. With a quick smile, she momentarily fell silent. I asked, "Amma, do you have a diya and oil for offering to God?" She nodded immediately and swiftly gathered the items for me. It seemed she had been eagerly anticipating a customer. This encounter marked the beginning of a compassionate bond, a connection between two individuals without any specific reason.
Subsequently, my regular visits to the pavement instilled a desire to regularly purchase a diya for worship. The lady's smile and selfless demeanor sparked my curiosity about her financial situation, prompting me to consider how I could assist her. One Tuesday, her small shop remained closed for a few consecutive days, indicating that something might be amiss. Time passed, and one day, at the usual time, I saw her opening the shop's door. Unable to resist, I inquired about her absence. From her explanation, I learned that her son had been hospitalized due to liver complications. Sensing the potential need for financial support, I positioned myself as a strong contender, eager to understand her circumstances. Crossing boundaries, I delved into personal matters and asked how she managed her family, considering her husband's long unemployment due to a road accident. Nevertheless, the contentment on her face remained unchanged as she expressed financial stability through a rented house and her small flower shop near the temple, which covered their daily expenses. This brief interaction brought us closer, and I felt compelled to offer my assistance. She maintained her dignity and showed no expectations. Her perseverance and innocent gaze led me to silence. Despite her flower business yielding only a modest turnover of Rs 2000, her contentment remained high, and she harbored no complaints. Her perspective on life was limited, yet she exuded happiness and made diligent efforts to sell her wares to the devotees who visited the temple. Our attachment grew intentionally, and our conversations became intimate, as if I were a part of her life. After offering my prayers, I intentionally took a small diya to provide solace to her. Aware of my intentions, she gifted me a bunch of flowers, their fragrance permeating the area, much like her own nature. I felt blessed to have been a part of her life, albeit for a fleeting moment. In a city like Bengaluru, where nobody has time to witness others' pain, as everyone is focused on their own pursuits, the experience served as a reminder of the importance of empathy and connection in leading a fulfilling life.
Sapna Acharya
Social Activist
Travel Vlogger
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