“Ninety-nine percent of who you are is invisible and untouchable.”
Richard Buckminster Fuller
Inivisbility. Its a value I often wished I had. And today, I discovered, that I needn’t wish, for I already was.
I was invisible.
Two ‘friends’ walk by, I say a “Hi”, the grin on my face sighs, as they calmly walk by. The foolish wasted expression on face just dies down, and meanwhile, somewhere in my mind, someone has chimed a gong, with a heart-felt hammer. I’m invisible.
I walk into that place which I often haunt. Another man comes along. He points his finger at me, and wag some threats. “If it doesnt happen-” for my imagination, he left the rest. He need not worry, but about the end. And the means, which is me, is all, but invisible. I’m invisible.
Another of my ‘good’ ‘friends’ settles comfortably nearby. A waved hi, to a couple standing to my side. They swiftly hurry to make themselves known, the attraction of the opposite sex, eh? I frown. But then, after a while, they just squander by. I’m invisible.
Today evening, one of my professors needed to get some work done. All I could dream, was of some food, and my bed. But he wanted somone to walk that extra mile, and after a little hassle, I said yes. I was invisible to him, but for the task at hand.
Someone wanted help with some manual work. I told him, I’ll be there, I wouldn’t shirk. So there were four, and I made five. They stood, and they worked. One among them joked, in a language alien, isolating my perk. And as they laughed, joke after joke, I stood by, with a stupid smile on my face. That one was giving attention, to all but me. That one’s been that way for now many a day. I wonder whats wrong? Defense for the one comes from many ways. But how long did I take to understand, I’m invisible?
I looked at myself in the mirror. Why was I feeling horrible? Why was I feeling that way? I couldn’t see myself. I was invisible. Where was I?
Oh, if you think being invisible is bad, oh please don’t run away with that false notion.
Tired me was walking through the streets of M G Road, and there, hungrily, I paused to buy a softie. Suddenly, the usual pitch came, from two ragged kids, about how they had not had food for a day. They asked for money, I shooed them away. But a second later I thought, I couldn’t give them money, but I could buy them softies. After all, they’re kids. So I go after them, but they don’t want softie. They take me to a nearby chat stall. They have what looks like their first meal for the day. They look at me and smile. They say thanks and move away. But hey, I’m invisible. Must be nice to have invisible strangers like this appear and help you out…
Two wannabe-cool guys stood next to me. They were sneering at me. “Mr goody goody wannabe do gooder ass”, they might have thought. Well sorry guys. I wasn’t trying to be a do gooder. If I can treat my friends for coffee and biscuits at the kiosk, what’s stopping me from treating two kids, who got to be my friends, at a chat stall? The kids did pick out the most expensive. Maybe I got duped into it. But hey, how many times a week can they afford to be a little extravagant? I don’t mind being the bakra there. So much better than being the bakra for many others, including the one mentioned above. And I didn’t have enough money left for a softie. Yeah big deal. As if I would die without one. I had pani puri instead.
I had to get to somewhere. I asked for an auto. “Fifty rupees saab” he said. “No thank you bhaiya.” I started walking. He called from behind “Forty!” I kept walking. Another voice stopped me. “Bhaiya,” it said.
I followed the voice. Another auto driver, perhaps around thirty years of age, pretty plump, was calling me. I went in and told him the location. He didn’t know the location, but he said he would go. He struggled a lot to get the auto started. I started feeling guilty. And once it got started, he rushed away, never turning on the meter. I asked him to. He turned back to look at me full-on in the eye and said, ”I’m Christian.”
He took me to the place, after winding a bit, ‘cos he didn’t know the way. He stopped a couple of times to enquire about the way, and meanwhile, we chatted quite a bit. He got me to the place, and took only minimum charge. “God bless you.” I said. I was still invisible. He had a smile on his face.
Smiled at a tired security guard… Held the door open for a tired lady to pass… A smile and a short talk with a stranger I barely new, the Chief Reporter of a prestigious newspaper, ‘cos she really really wanted to burst out… I’m still invisible. Just an invisible stranger.
But I just realised… If I had a damn tiring day, and if somebody came and told me, that he/she would go that extra mile, even though he/she was tired, for the success of our venture, how happy I would be! If I had a day when everyone was shouting at me, and I was feeling crap, and somebody smiled at me, how happy I would be! If I was barely dragging myself home, and someone held the door open for me, with a smile on his/her face, how happy I would be! If I had a miserable day, and if someone just looked at me with open eyes, an invitation, and stopped for two minutes so that I could burst out a little, and get composed, how happy I would be! If someone got me some food when I was desperately hunting for it, and I was drinking the left-over lemonade, that people threw away, from a trash bin, how happy I would be! And all this while, if that someone was invisible…
I just realised, how many people I had made happy today, by being invisible.
Maybe I like being invisible. Thinking of those smiling faces, I can afford to be invisible. Gives me much more happiness than being visible. If I compare the visible, and invisible, parts of today, the latter far outweighs the former in happiness…
Something beats in my heart… And then, I read:
“And now here is my secret, a very simple secret; it is only with the heart that one can see rightly, what is essential is invisible to the eye.”
Antoine de Saint-Exupery
P.S: As far as the one is concerned, he can take his feigning of my invisibilty, and stuff it up his bloody a**.
