Tuesday, May 15, 2012

He Is Beautiful

Okay, it's been almost a month now since my last exam.

I've been keeping my fingers crossed the whole time for the revelation on 24/5/12, the fitting finale to my treacherous journey in NTU. Hopefully, I'll pass, and then graduate.

But it was on that last examination day that I would remember for the rest of my life. It was not because of the last paper that I sat for, but rather, the one in the MRT.

Beautiful he

I don't wish to appear voyeuristic, so I didn't snap the picture of the Sikh gentleman. This is the best I can do on a Galaxy Note (galaxy note rocks, yo!). Indeed, it appears very dull and drab to the say the least, but it definitely isn't for me, given the circumstances. I mean, what's so striking about a man reading a book in the MRT anyway?

My heart was in a mess and my mind constantly bombarded by a tirade of wild thoughts. I imagined this wretched feeling would be a normal experience for those sitting for a major exam, the state of one's well-being  at the lowest form.

As I was rummaging through my notes, someone caught my flailing eyes. In the midst of that mindless frenzy, a 50+ man strode into the cabin and found himself a seat opposite from mine. From the get go, my subconscious mind had repeatedly asked me to pay attention to this man. For the next half and hour, my conscious mind could see why.

He was immaculate and the book nestled perfectly in his palm. Every gestures and movements when he opened his book was slow and deliberate. It's almost as if he's caressing the book, turning each page like playing a note off a violin: melodic.

His posture was perfect; cross-legged and extremely relaxed. If you've ever envisioned yourself lying on a hammock in summer at a countryside, this would be it. He was unfazed by the hustle and bustle of his surroundings; he, with himself, in a personal zen-like solitude. I've never seen anyone having such an intimate relationship with his book before. He bore an indifferent expression that impairs the full spectrum of human expressions that we know of when we're extremely excited or sad or angry.

By now, I've realised that his demeanour alone had coerced me into stopping my revision. And in the sense, calmed me from my anxiety and apprehension. How could you not be, when you just witnessed someone or something that radiates peace and serenity all over? As if I can get anything much from last minute revision anyway.

In the end, the fixation with his book became his own undoing. He scurried off in a rush just in time before the door closes at his stop, snapping me back to reality.

Time and space flows again.

Duly, I had been transported from my ordinary world of materialism to the illuminated sphere of contemplation, and back again.

All of us yearn that blissful feeling of peace. In this age of consumerism, we have to study or work hard to earn that coveted pay-check. But in the process to be richer, we had unknowingly starved ourselves to the real meaning of life that makes it worth living. It won't be easy to escape from the shackles of materialism, but instead of chasing happiness, why not practice it? Isn't that what we work our socks off for? To get money and be happy?

Live should be, like that gentleman that I was privileged enough to witness, summed up in one word: beautiful. But if only, we could see it.

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