Sunday, August 11, 2013

Those ghost eyes..

There is a man who wears the brightest tshirts. He casually walks around in his Neon Green tshirt.
He walks around the hotel all the time. You must have seen him if you have spent time in this hotel. But I am sure that you wouldn't have noticed him, given him a second glance. Though I fail to understand why.
He has the whitest hair and lots of scars. The scars give his face some character.
He walks very fast.  You will always find a newspaper in his hand.

The other day I got a call from Germany and while I was busy struggling with Hallo's, gut, Danke and Tschuss he was busy pacing up and down... Later, he dropped in to say hii in the gym. I was quite amused.
"Sie Sprechen gut Deutsche" (You speak good German). I replied, "Danke, Ich Lerne Deutsche"
(Thanks, I am learning Deutsche). He came by after an hour and gave me an apple from his bag..

Last night, I walked down to a dingy, shady, Lebanese cafe for some food. He was ordering his food when I reached there. We ended up sitting opposite to each other. He began talking. He asks a lot of questions. He looked at my feet and said .. "Big feet for a small girl".. I blushed. He also talked about my running.. After answering his 100 questions I asked him what was his story? He lost his only son in a big crazy car crash back in Germany. He was under depression for a long time. One fine day he packed his stuff and has been tripping ever since.. He learnt 5 languages in 7 years. He stays in the same hotel. He does freelancing for a living. He is trying to live it up. Every single day and Every single minute... He talked about the far off lands and we became friends. We keep meeting over apples and coffee now. Sometimes we end up sitting on the hotel porch to read our newspapers. He sometimes drops in to say Hii. He suggested a few modifications to my running style for the marathon. Oh, yeah he runs and he runs like a bullet. I told him about my life. My passions, My sketches, My paintings, My quirks, My Friends. I showed him photos and he showed me pictures of hinterland. We love to talk about Germany. I always tell him about my little town. And that how I feel that it will be mine, someday. We talk a lot about Springsteen. He calls me a little girl. I get a little mad every time he does that though he calls me bright. He thinks I am a bright girl with a lot of good energy. So what if he is 40 years older than me I am not a little girl. He misses his wife and son terribly. I have a feeling that he wears those bright tshirts to keep his spirits high. Those scars are for real and so is his pain.. You can read lonliness in some people's eyes. If you will look at him carefully you might just notice the emptiness inside. It just made me realize how difficult it is to deal with lonliness. I guess we all have stories.. Some of us hide them behind the lines on our face. Ciao..


  1. Aren't you on the wrong side of 30?
    Then this guy must be 75 :o

  2. truth indeed is stranger and stronger than fiction :)