An Awkward Question

It  is better to start a conversation than to remain sitting in awkwardness.

A personal commitment left me with no other option than to commute in the metro on a daily basis.

Frankly speaking, I had this notion that these one hour rides would be mundane and tedious. Yes of course, I had thought of reading or listening to music, but believe me, it just did not work. The frequent stops would make reading a book a “mind-boggling” experience. Mind-boggling, I say because the feeling of nausea that would eventually develop after a fifty-or-so pages was intolerable. The consequences of continuing with the practice were uninviting and repulsive to say the least. Music in loudspeakers was obviously an absolute no-no ; and putting on headphones for an hour? No thank you, I know better. An intact head is much preferred over a stir-fried stew of neurons and cerebrospinal fluid. It was an unfortunate end to two awesome and fantastic possibilities. 

The next measure involved, looking out of the windows, searching for the new, the unseen. The view was often hindered by passengers as everyone squeezed in for space. Looking at the window behind me was, well, uncomfortable. Nevertheless, I got used to the view pretty quickly,  so much so, that I wished different routes could be taken each day. Sadly, that was impractical. 

Another dream had been shattered. I was running out of ideas. 

Edison has famously said that necessity is the mother of invention. In my case, it was my desperation that brought forth my awkward self. A figment that unconsciously pushed me on to ask what I wanted to ask. So I smiled a very innocent smile and asked the lady sitting next to me for a game called – Atlas. For those of you who are not aware of the game, it comprises of a person mentioning the name of any place and the next person having to come up with a place whose name starts with last letter of the previously mentioned place. Yes, not as difficult as it sounds. 

This game was so enthusiastically played in the school bus on rides back home. Thankfully, she agreed. A gesture generated out of politeness, I assumed. A part of me jumped with joy, having conquered this initial obstacle of uncertainty. I fully immersed myself in the game. The lady too, as it turned out, was coming up with quick responses ardently. An uncle prompted me when I got stuck. Another lady came to the rescue of my opponent. In a matter of minutes, the number of players switched from two to three, then five and eight. Whether it was our devotion or zeal that captured others’ attention, I cannot say with confidence. 

However, the fact was that a really humble game had cut across ages and broken the barriers of anonymity. It had urged people to interact and bond over something small yet precious. We all had a great time and got off the train with bright smiles on their faces. The laughter had pumped up each one of us, providing an unequivocal assurance of a great day ahead. 

An awkward question had furnished me with a beautiful answer.