The Anger Spice

One usual afternoon, after two weeks of roaming around for the necessary stuff like University registration, Student card and searching an apartment to settle in the Strasbourg city, I boarded onto a tram from Gare Centrale, towards Illkirch, unaware of the consciousness that was guiding me towards the right direction.

I could hear the tram doors slide close behind me. I was tired, perhaps not from the stuff I have been doing after my arrival in France, but from the chaos I have been living and facing since last couple of years. My eyes searched for a place to sit and they found one in front of an old woman. As soon as I arrived at that seat, an old man sitting next to the old woman stared at me with his strange dull eyes and kept his cane on the seat in front of him, the one next to me. It acted as a kick to bring me back from my dreamland. 

Did the person just put his cane on the front seat just to avoid me from sitting there?

‘Yes he did’, I answered to my own question. 

I gazed at his more than eighty year old eyes. I could see nothing, but irritation. I passed a smile without being reciprocated. He stared back at me with the determination that he is not letting me sit near the window. I was not trying to. The old man was indeed very old. He was sporting an Ushanka, a Russian winter cap, but seemed to be French. He cleaned overflowing saliva from his lips with the tissue tucked in one of his fists. At times, he would simply suck it back from the sides of his mouth, instead of cleaning with the tissue. Skin has left the hair roots on his wrist as the retreating tide leaves the beach to dry and become the dead sand. His sight rivalled feelings of disgust and pity in my head. I realized that the old woman on my front seat has left, only when the man shifted to her seat, now directly facing me, instead of the earlier diagonal position. 

Somebody giggled and my attention and thoughts shifted to the other side of the tram. They were a bunch of teenagers, teasing each other in French, probably over the pimple marks, half of them were developing and rest half will probably develop soon. The old man seemed to be unaware of their presence so did the teenagers of his and mine presence around them. Then it occurred to me, that he noticed them before I did. This is why he shifted his seat, in order to not let them sit near him and with this he shifted his cane to seat, he has been occupying earlier. 

The chemistry among teens soon turned into a fun rift. One of them pushed the other two and they would have hit the old man’s head from the back. To my surprise, the old man avoided the impact by moving ahead on his seat, as if he could see what is happening behind his back. I wondered what he will do next. I did not have to wait for too long to see the action from his side. He turned slowly and scared the teens with his cane. 

I wondered if I just saw a smile on his face, instead of anger, but I was not sure. The teens have got their toy by this time. They started to dance and shout as soon as the old man sporting the Ushanka turned his back on them. They will shout, come very near to him, but will remain far enough to be away from his reach. The man showed his cane once or twice again, but it just boosted the teens. The old man got up and balanced himself on his cane. All the teens, except one, ran to the other side of the tram. The other teens watched him from a distance. The old man tried to hit the teen with his cane, without any success. This probably boosted the courage of teen with the pimple marks. He became louder. For the next few minutes the old man sporting the Ushanka and the teen with the pimple marks danced on each other tunes. I wanted to get up and shout on the teens, nevertheless something inside me made me feel that this is all right and I remain unmoved. I happened to look at my reflection in the glass window and I saw a faint hint of smile on my face. The old man’s movement to get the teen, promoted from feeble to decent attempts, but they were still just attempts. 

“Next Station, ‘Leclerc’”, announced the programmed computer voice of the tram. The teen needed to get down there and therefore moved towards the door. The old man like an experienced hunter was waiting for his prey to fell right into his trap. The teen managed to hit the open button without getting hit, but could not get out. Then he rushed towards the open exit with full energy. The kid was sure in old man’s reach and there was enough time and he hit the teen, only to be able to touch the sleeve of his jacket. The teen got out, turned back, enough to be away from the cane’s reach and made a duck face. The old man looked at him and the doors slid back to close. The old man kept standing there, with his cane’s support for another couple of minutes. 

He came back and took his seat and smiled at me. He definitely smiled at me. I could see life in his old dull eyes. I closed my eyes, only to open them an instant later to confirm that I understand. We both smiled in unison. He got down at next station. I waved a good bye at him and he reciprocated with a big smile.

I found the answer to my puzzle, over my own anger; I have been trying to answer since last few days. 

Sometimes anger is just the right spice missing in the curry of life.
Tak.