The man in white shirt, blue trousers

I looked out through the window, in an effort to catch a glimpse of the dazed sky...sun shone bright, as always...Wouldn't the people living in this part of the world be suffering from excess intake of vitamin D? I thought to myself...I looked again to watch people gain entry into the mall situated bang opposite... Mothers dragging stubborn children, taxi drivers slowing down every now and then in the hope of spotting a customer, some thin, pale-looking men riding on bicycles in the scorching heat, to feed some lazy, hungry stomachs.. I turned my face to look away from the hustle bustle outside only to be greeted by more chaos from within.

I stood up from my seat and walked past cubicles to reach the pantry, trying to ignore the loud shouts of people as they screamed on their phones. “Do they actually realize the decibels at which they scream and then I’m greeted by women who are busy whipping out small mirrors from their vanity bags to check their thick coats of red lipstick and pondering over if the number of layers of foundation applied on their faces were few…followed by some old, unknown faces that often stare at me…I see them every day… they are unknown, unfriendly, masked faces, carefully plastered with artificial giggles.. they seem so very artificial – as artificial as their faces masked with layers of make-up! I try to ignore them and concentrate on the lunch box that clings onto me.. every time the box touches me, it reminds me of my mother’s unconditional love! Felt good...

I walk past all that to stumble upon a rather unusual sight.. I try to take a closer look…”Is it him? Yes.. It is indeed him… the guy in white shirt and blue trousers, struggling to take control of the mouse and fingers running slowly on the keyboard keys..! I’m happy that he can operate a computer.. Well.. I’m sure.. But isn’t he checking his email? As I near him, the wrinkles on his dark face become more visible and clear. I try to ask him in my broken Tamil… “What are you struggling to do? Checking email?” I notice he’s tying his luck with all possible words he's typing as password…I feel like helping him, grabbing the mouse from his hands…

Finally when he turns lucky with the combination of letters and is successful in opening his email, he turns around and shouts at me, “Madam.. look here..” pointing towards the computer screen. I go closer to take a look. All I see was a  pale, old woman, standing in front of a very small building, roofed with asbetos…“That’s my wife and you know where she’s standing? infront of our new home, in our village in Madurai..” Waw! I exclaim! I crane my neck again in order to catch another quick glimpse. All I could see was a building that looked as pale and weary as the woman herself.. there was clutter everywhere.. The old woman was trying to hide the uncertainty within her with a forced smile. The guy who took the snap, would have suggested that she smiles. I thought..

As Antony is trying to control the mouse, trying to scroll up and down, taking closer, longer looks at his wife and his new home – the single room rather, I transcend myself to that old village in the Southern region of India, trying to visualize the village, its people, their hopes, aspirations… Would they be any different from mine and yours…Would they know how it is for people like Antony to leave their country, come and work in an unknown country like this.. “Well.. all for greener pastures. Isn’t? Hmmm…”

While I get lost in those thoughts, Antony’s shrieking voice wakes me up, “Madam…” he opens the pantry door, unwilling to take his eyes off the computer screen. As I look at him, I feel a sense of pride and happiness together engulf the old man’s wrinkled-face.

He proudly proclaims, “You saw my new house madam? I spent four lakhs on it.” I smile at him and tell him I’m very happy for him. As he walks away back to the pantry to clean yet another plate and yet another tea mug, he cranes himself to take yet another glimpse of his home, his wife, his people, his country…