The first time I saw her when she handed back my little note pad that slipped from my handbag. The next time at the porch by herself, looking into emptiness and the other time, with her hairs shaved off her head. Since then, I saw her almost every day and we began to exchange those looks of acquaintance.
At the extended stay, I barely got to see the same people around but for this skinny lady, probably in late forties. I somehow sensed that she is not in a good shape. Whatsoever, we became so common to each other, it's as if we communicated speechless.
Last Sunday afternoon, I found the bathroom in my studio locked from the inside. Turns out, I have casually mastered the skill of locking myself out of the room. I did this countless times and with a lot of ease ever since I checked into this place.
She came over to help, as she saw me helplessly making numerous trips to the front office. This time, by a matter of chance, I took a closer look on her only to see that she was pale, unhealthy and had blood oozing out of bruises on her neck. Her nails were filled with dirt and she smelled like a cigarette. She walked right in and tried to unlock the door, in vain. While the episode ended with an alternate arrangement made by the front office, I thanked her for the attempt to help and we introduced ourselves briefly, namesake.
Two days later, she came on my mind in fact, the only one I think I knew in the neighborhood, as soon as I thought of giving away an unopened yogurt to someone that could use it before it expired. I swiftly walked by the stairs to look for her and there she was in the usual pose with a cigarette in hand. The moment I said hello, she replied as if she were eagerly waiting to begin a conversation. And when I asked her if she would like to have it, she readily accepted the offer and invited me into her room.
There was an awkward silence for a moment; we did not know what to talk. Hesitantly, she started and her eyes welled up with tears. She talked about her financially and emotionally broken state. She is suffering from a great loss and is by herself, deserted and all alone. The need of the moment was not yogurt, but a listening ear, few words of encouragement, a little bit of companionship, a sense of being cared for and she sure got it, courtesy of a soon to expire yogurt!! I felt a purpose to my presence at that moment and it was satisfying.
It’s not easy to be alone, especially in distress, stranded in life with not even a single ray of hope. One may not solve problems, nor offer solutions, but who knows, during those “Who cares if” times, a word as small as ‘Hi’ could make an ocean of difference. It still matters on the receiving end, even if it were for a moment! It counts.
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