Hands in pockets I walked. Expressionless I walked. Head straight I walked. A tee and jeans on me walked too. I was irresponsive to the happenings around. The city was buzzing with life. After all, it is a Saturday night. But it did not matter to me. Any day of the week, I am still weak.
On my right was a pub. I stared at it. Out came running a girl, drunk, swaying and just about to puke. She came close enough much to my dismay and puked hard. I didn’t stop walking. My jeans were a little dirty at the edges, thanks to the lady. Her boyfriend came rushing towards her, cigarette in his hand and gave her a glass of water. He was asking something. Who cares anyway?
I walked further. I saw a family walking across the road. The mom was pushing a baby trolley. Obviously there was a baby in it. I wanted to look at the baby. I walked silently across the road paying minimal attention to the heads-on traffic and made way towards them back to my original path. It was dressed in a sober blue pullover. It was beautiful. It made me smile a little. Not the fact that it is cute, but that innocence is still alive.
I walked on. Back on my original co-ordinates, I looked back to see, if the drunk girl and her boyfriend were still there. They were but now a different set. Boy was puking and girl was handing him a glass of water.
A little further, a set of dogs, big and small were awaiting my arrival to quench their thirst for barking. And yes they did. I whistled, still walking. A few of them barked harder. Some of them started waging their tails. One fellow searching for his dinner in a nearby dustbin also raised his head. The friendly ones started following me at my pace. I liked how they accepted a stranger so easily. So I kept whistling. And they kept following. It made me smile a little. Not the fact that they kept following me, but that trust is still present.
Hands still in my pockets, I moved on. There was no destination. The dogs have abandoned me too. I had all the time in the world. I told my legs to take me where they want to. It was like they were functioning on their own without the help of a brain. A biker started moving towards me at full speed on the wrong side of the road. Obviously, he was drunk, I thought. I did not sway from my path. The handle bar hit me slightly pushing me off balance. He did not care. He went ahead screaming something. Then I heard a big sound. It came from behind me. I did not want to stop walking. So I turned around and started towards the sound.
Our dear biker had crashed directly into a parked bus. He was bleeding. Just not to stop walking, I kept moving around him like some emotionless zombie. I searched for my phone in my pocket and pulled it out. When I was just about to call for an ambulance, people came rushing towards him and heaved him into some unknown car and took him away. His bike was also carefully parked near a tree on the pavement. So nothing to be done, I turned around and started. It made me smile a little. Not the fact that the biker was hurt and I was taking mental revenge, but that hope is still not lost.
I finally reached home and closed the door. Even without changing, I crashed on to my bed and went into a slumber. The next morning, I looked at myself in the mirror. It made me smile a little. Not the fact that I looked like shit, but that I was still in good hands.