Inner Peace ,the Secret of Happiness

"A joy that's shared is a joy made double."

    John Ray

We were at Pune railway station half an hour ahead of time. We got the platform tickets and climbed the access ramp to reach the over head bridge from where we were directed to platform number five. We reached the platform and found it reasonably full. There were people every where, a mail train to Bangalore was about to depart the platform. We lingered as it slowly chugged and stirred ahead. The crowd did not budge instead there were many more people trickling slowly to board the Mumbai Hyderabad express. There was a huge family with their extended family of roughly fifteen people with kids and adults on a holiday. The women were clad in “burkha” a black cloak. We were frantically searching for a place to be on our feet with out people pushing us around. We were to meet my sisters who had boarded the train from Mumbai.

As time went by people started hastening with their luggage and families. There were a few young girls sluggishly walking around, towing their luggage in oblivion. There was yet another family with two kids, the younger one bawling away when his mother wanted him to wear slippers. There were two elderly ladies very well dressed with their decently clothed husbands chatting in low voices displaying the kind of poise needed. The loud voice of the railway schedule announcer assured us that the train was on time. Everyone heaved a sigh of relief. The platform was dirtier than ever with people spitting, bits of papers of goodies flying around which had been callously thrown. In the hub dub there was a guava vendor who was selling guavas. A peanut seller was wandering in search of a place with a coir woven stool and his basket of peanuts.  Two young boys hastily bought it and gulped it down their throat. Books and magazines were being brought by people to recline and enjoy reading during their travel. We looked on waiting for the train to arrive. It had turned hotter with the sun’s scorching rays agonizing me more than ever. I detested the grime around, the horde of people, the mushy smell and would have scampered away but for the dinner I had painfully cooked for my sisters so that they could have home made food. Suddenly cold wind started blowing; it turned dark and cloudy, and began pouring. People began cursing their fate as it had turned muddy with water trickling, reaching their baggage. There was no space to move under the shade. And then it began pouring heavily. I was muttering under my breath and was terribly upset. I raised my head to see water gushing through over head pipes which lined the roof top of the platform. The water was mucky as it flowed through the dusty roof tops. As I stood wondering what next, I saw two little boys in unclean set of clothes. They looked like those children who sweep up the compartment and beg money as compensation. They were yelling and hastily unbuttoning their shirts. They ran with the shirt now in their hands under the water which was pouring from the roof top and began bathing gladly. They didn’t have soap or any such luxuries. They hopped, leaped and shrieked in the happiness of having cooled their bodies. Later they thumped their shirts on the floor in water and wringed it, it was their way of washing clothes, plastered their hair back and went to the railway canteen to relish some food. We lead a comfortable life but a few minutes in the filth and mob pained us.  These little boys who were combating their fate with a valiant heart above all the miseries in life could search happiness in little things like a thunder shower reminding us of Swami Vivekananda who said  

 “Happiness presents itself before man, wearing the crown of sorrow on its head. He who welcomes it must also welcome sorrow”.