The Sleeping Technique

 

I have a lot of experience of running behind trains. I don't know how, but every time some urgency occurs ranging from moderate to high just before my trip. I believe that I'm a little less organized compared to the individuals my age. But this trip is different. On this trip, I was not willing to come. 

My son is six months old and has started reacting to all the little mischiefs I do when I'm with him. With a heavier heart, welled-up eyes, and slow steps I entered the railway station. The train was motionlessly gazing at me from the opposite platform. I was aware of the relationship between the night trains and me. I climbed the stairs as quick as I could. But the train started moving slowly as it was trying to tease me. 

Luckily, the bogie that I had to board was just crossing the staircase, and in no time I boarded it. The train forgave me this time.

The bogie was almost vacant. Some odd seats were occupied with motionless humans, covering their bodies with uniform blankets. I was looking for my side lower seat. There was no one in the whole compound except this lady who was sitting facing towards the other side. I kept my luggage under the berth and lay down. 

When all the animated stuff came to a halt and I closed my eyes to catch my sleep, I felt my heart heavy again. I was thinking what my son must be doing. I was missing the fragrance of his body, the curls of his hair. I was missing his small hands and his toothless smile. I miss putting him to bed, and watching his facial expressions when he gets into deep slumber. 

When it comes to putting him to sleep, I'm an expert. My strategy is darn too simple. I put him near my torso, cradle him at a uniform pace, and repeat the name of Lord Rama in more of a hissing voice.

Ram...

Ram...

Ram...

And in no time he enters into his dreamland, making faces of all kinds. 

I opened my eyes to set an alarm on my cellular phone. I even have a record of missing my destined stations too. As soon as I closed my eyes again, I heard a familiar voice. I thought for a while that I was hallucinating or something. I heard my son crying as he usually does when he wants to sleep but can't. When the voice became more clear and loud, I got up to see what was happening. I switched on the lights of the cabin. The lady who was lying on the other side was carrying her toddler on her lap and shaking it rigorously.

She apologized for that as she thought she must have disturbed my sleep. I just smiled and lay down again. Her baby was roaring like a hungry cub. I covered my head with the blanket and switched off the lights in case she wanted to feed the baby. 

The baby was crying at the top of his voice. I felt something fishy by then. I switched on the lights again and asked her whether she had checked the baby's temperature or not. She put her finger on the baby's neck to manually check the temperature. I was not aware of any such technique for measuring temperature, but she acknowledged that her baby was doing fine.

I asked her if  I could help. She was hesitant at first. She was really not expecting that. But looking at her baby's condition, she handed me her toddler. 

I stood up and roamed around a bit here and there. The baby was still crying, clenching my kurta in his little fists I started caressing the back of his head softly. That was the first time when he looked at me. Our eyes met for the first time. I smiled at him. He stopped crying for a few seconds, observing an unfamiliar face. He started crying again but at a much slower pace, as if he was complaining about something to me.

I sat on my berth and put his face to my abdomen, just below my heart. He stopped crying again. He was again observing my face. He lifted his left hand and started playing with my beard. I started cradling him when I noticed his eyes getting heavier. 

And finally, I started humming the name of Lord Rama.

Ram...

Ram...

Ram...

I told his mother to make her bed. I lay him down carefully and switched off the lights.

Her Mother started patting his back to make him feel safe and protected.

'Thank you' I heard her voice before I came back to my seat.

I was glad that my magic formula worked.  

The next morning I woke up before the alarm rang. I saw the baby giggling in her Mother's arms. She playfully told him to wish me good morning, to which he giggled some more. 

I went to freshen up. My station was about to arrive. 

When I came back from the restroom, her son was crying again. He was looking worn out with all that playing and giggling. I sat on my seat quietly and started putting my stuff in my backpack.

When I turned around again I saw the lady cradling him on her lap.

Ram...

Ram...

Ram...

 

Voila! 

He went into deep slumber even quicker than the night before. He was sleeping calmly when the train lowered its pace. I got up looking at the baby. He looked very similar to my own son. I kept looking at him till the train halted.

'What's his name?' I asked her.

'Irfan... Muhammad Irfan'. She smiled as she replied.

The Angry Lemon Plant

Picture Source

 I have spent so many years following what others are doing. From academics to my personal life, I have blindly borrowed so many things from others. Yes, I have always cared for other's opinions. Yes, I have listened to other's judgments. I have done that all - just like so many people out there. 

And one day, out of nowhere I picked up a pen and scribbled the traits and habits I have acquired from others in a little notebook. And I wrote eighteen pages (front and back). 

Okay! A little less than eighteen pages - but they were enough to enlighten me and show me the way. I need to peel off my societal layers without thinking of the result. 

Then a phase comes when you start to give importance to your inner voice. You start looking at your own needs, requirements, and of course, wishes.

One such wish was to have a little garden of my own. When it comes to gardening and the stuff related to it, I was just too amateur. In fact, I had a bad experience with all the plants I had received as gifts on my birthdays. But the rule is to take care of your wishes. 

So I went to this cute little nursery which is quite near to my office. I bought Rose, lipstick aglaonema, and a little lemon plant. With a good experience with them, I gained some confidence and started getting more and more plants. Now I have a gulmohar, Mint, Neem, Aloe vera, and many other delicate as well as sturdy plants in my little gallery. 

Almost every morning, I sit among them and look at the minuteness and beauty of each of my plants. I have started feeling that each plant has a unique nature. Some seem to be loving and warm. Some are angry and irritated. A few of them are darn too aggressive and even turn violent sometimes. 

Just like my lemon plant.

While watering them, I got a bruise from one of the sharpest thorns of my lemon plant. My wrist even started bleeding a little. I looked at it and felt as if it was looking directly into my eyes, still in attack mode. 

I choose to ignore it.

But the other day a similar thing happened. I understood the fact that something needed to be done immediately.

I lifted the pot and placed it on the other side of the gallery, away from the rest of the plants. I grabbed my chair and started sipping my 'Bitterest - Black - Coffee'. 

On my left, there are lush green plants, loaded with flowers and green leaves. And on my right, there is this little lemon plant, looking directly at my face.

Suddenly I heard a group of kids giggling, shouting, and hooting - to tease someone. I looked to my right and saw a tweeny version of mine standing there - struggling to keep his hands up. And on my left, I recognized each and every face. I recognized each and every voice. I recognized each and every taunt. They still ring in my ears. I must be eleven or twelve, with tired arms, I was trying to hold my glasses, which were falling down my cheek.

My fault? I was discussing the episode of 'Shahid Bhagat Singh', which was telecasted the night before on DD National with the guy sitting next to me. The teacher caught me chattering with a little more animation than required in that particular conversation. 

She didn't miss the opportunity to comment on my exam scores and physicality - before 'throwing' me out of the class. When she left the class for some work, some students repeated what the teacher said, adding a little more creativity.

I immediately got up and placed the lemon plant among the other plants. I changed its place, but I couldn't bear the sight of the lemon plant alone, gazing at me. It was haunting my psyche.

The whole day I was thinking about that sight. I was overwhelmed and irritated that day, secretly suffering in my imagination. I concluded the day with the thought that I should receive a national award for overthinking from the Government of India.

A couple of weeks passed and I completely forgot about that day. Like every morning I was watering the plants and plucking dry leaves. I glanced at the lemon plant. When I looked at it closely, I was astonished at the sight. I saw two little lemons hanging joyfully from a low branch of the lemon plant.

 What a sight it was. 

That's the role of genuine companionship, love, and sympathy in one's life. One opens up all the locked and bolted gates of his or her heart. One feels safe and warm in your company - Just like my little lemon plant, which is not so little anymore.

And the national award of overthinking - Here I come.

Love, Laughter, and Peace

HRN