The Barrow Lady

The Barrow Lady 

 She is small, wizened, old, her fingers gnarled like the roots of an ancient tree. She had a full head of hair, thick, grey, unwashed and bundled into a knot at the nape of her neck. I pass her every day during my morning walk, me with my addidas shoes and a walking stick and she with a tiny barrow, rickety and falling apart that she trundles to her place in front of the school. She is the proprietress of this moving tuck shop and the children swarm to her barrow during recess. Her candy is sticky, brightly coloured and cheap, the children get a sweet fix and she a few paisa to feed herself.

We smile when we pass, acknowledge each others wishes with a smile that crinkles my eyes and which reveals her toothy mouth. We have not spoken but have created a strand of that universal love which is best expressed to strangers without name, friend or foe.

She missed her pass yesterday and I sense an edginess to my day. Should I enquire with the other hawkers. I let it pass. Maybe we had mistimed. I pray that she is safe and well.

Today, i spot her yards away, the rickety barrow, the old lady bent double, pushing her wares with fierce energy on an empty stomach. Maybe she sucked on one of her candy pieces, maybe. For sure she has not eaten as I know, for it is only after she makes some sales that she buys a dried bun and a tiny paper cup of tea from a fellow hawker.

Long before we pass each other, my eyes have crinkled in smile, she is well and here and that is all that matters. Strangers we love we great passion and little attachment.        

Inspired by Tolstoy.

 Quote from War & Peace.

“Yes, love, ...but not the love that loves for something, to gain something, or because of something, but that love that I felt for the first time, when dying, I saw my enemy and yet loved him. I knew that feeling of love which is the essence of the soul, for which no object is needed. And I know that blissful feeling now too. To love one's neighbours; to love one's enemies. To love everything - to Love God in all His manifestations. Some one dear to one can be loved with human love; but an enemy can only be loved with divine love. And that was why I felt such joy when I felt that I loved that man. What happened to him? Is he alive? ...Loving with human love, one may pass from love to hatred; but divine love cannot change. Nothing, not even death, can shatter it. It is the very nature of the soul. And how many people I have hated in my life. And of all people none I have loved and hated more than her.... If it were only possible for me to see her once more... once, looking into those eyes to say...”
― Leo Tolstoy, War and Peace