Random Passerby

Arjun Paul
4 min readOct 29, 2017

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The other day, I was standing on the sidewalk trying to book a cab on mobile

and all of a sudden, my attention diverted from those little car icons moving on the screen

and went towards the random strangers passing by

for some reason tonight, they didn’t appear like a blur of traffic in some highway

tonight I could sense an epic story unfolding invisibly around me with each passerby

like a complex beehive with elaborate passageways to thousands of other lives

that I never knew existed,

in which I might appear only once like an Extra dancing in a Bollywood song having no role in the plot

“everyone is living a life as vivid and crazy like my own”, I realised

And just like all deep thoughts get killed by push notifications,

the notification from Ola derailed my new found realisation

And….I saw that I booked a Share ride despite only 5% discount off on Micro !!

My thumb was about to hit the Cancel button, but I stopped

I thought I could use some company,

watching these numerous strangers from the sidewalk tonight has given me enough reason to feel lonely

That flirtatious glance, a sympathetic nod, a shared laugh about some odd event on road…

are indeed the smallest measurable unit of human connection exchanged between two strangers

and its these fleeting and random moments that make me feel more human nowadays

and believe in magic

because if there is any magic in this world

it is between this space between me and that passerby…..

the anticipation to lock eyes, that shy attempt to understand each other, sharing something

I know its impossible to succeed but who cares really? The answer must be in the attempt

The cab stopped for the other rider,

and a curious looking girl got in and sat beside me

as I pretended to be busy, listening to music on my earphones

the same pretence when I come here to listen to poetry…..

And witness the flash of real emotion in the audience

idly locked in the middle of a performance

as their eyes glint with vulnerability or quiet anticipation or cosmic boredom

every face scripting a unique story, and the whole room looking like a Backstage of a theatre

and there I am ……….. peeking through the gap in the curtain,

watching stagehands holding their ropes at the ready

actors in costume rehearsing their lines

and wardrobe & furniture being moved in and out

I caught this similar glimpse in my fellow rider as she listened to the car radio

and I wondered what her story could be — did she have a fight with her boss too or does she also think about the world like I do

I stopped this endless laundry of guessing and initiated conversation about guess what?….. “A random passerby”

This and that, this and that…….

and we lost track of time as her stop came before mine

I gently asked if she wanted to stay in touch, she said I won’t mind

we exchanged numbers, shook hands in good-bye

The cab turned around the corner to leave,

my strange realisation of the sidewalk returned in a jiffy

How a simple touch and conversation by someone just did the trick

a feeling of connection so effortlessly simple that it cheapens the power of written word

I guess in a few years, aspiring writers would be better off giving people a hug

And maybe that’s why I came back here from months of endless adventure

searching for inspiration to write,

but the inspiration was always there with every stranger that I talked to

I sometimes wonder if I even come here to perform

or just to catch a glimpse of your faces while everyone else performed

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Arjun Paul

I write so I can say I was truly paying attention. Experience isn’t enough. This is my defence against waking up at end of my life and realising I’d missed it!