Time warps in real life

We are blessed with a wonderful life. But are we enjoying every bit of it? Certainly not, atleast you know in your case I am right. We run along the most part of it, just because we have to, just because we have not been provided with options. Those who run along, if they have their eyes closed, will enjoy the run no better than a dancer who steps up without music, rhythmless. But with open eyes, a much more clearer picture appears, a canvas that infact not only helps us to
rewind the run without affecting the target or due, but also to evanesce to a deeper level of pensive. I will cite an experience of mine that exemplifies this.
I was late and so i couldnt have breakfast at office canteen. I kept cursing my incapabaility of getting up on time, thanks to the late night wash of clothes which could have been done a day ago. In me developed the sort of feeling as if my gut is contracting, seemingly protesting against my helplessness-turned-non-chalance. This somehow reminds me of the Non-Co-operation Movement envisaged by Gandhi and his likes. It pains when the gut calls. But not like when somebody else, say a beggar, calls for the sake of not his gut alone, but for lots of his/her dependents: marasmus ridden children and the grown-ups, who, like wise men say, are used to their very state of misery. These calls go unheard and unattended to, by majority of the contemporary folk who already consider themselves the generationext, who have mass excuses of "how disgusting", or "no time for all these clatters". The old lady at the roadside today morning, no specialty at sudden notice, seemed to represent a big population, so much developing in its vision of its flamboyant cultural and technological prosperity, yet so blind to let remain the needy needy. Her wrinkled skin made her face look like one of the many ripples frozen midway while its transit, as though the coldness of death waiting at the shore has had its effect-death is too cold to handle. Its cold waves overcome its heavier counterparts- those liquid ones of life.
The ripples unfortunate enough to be born near the shore are caught not unawares by the coldness, frozen and left half cadaverous awaiting a meager blow to be crumbled down. And the sparks of hope are only shallow, above the bare sand that stretches underneath. Blurred pictures like these and dull colours roamed my mind as the old lady passed my me, our eyes never breaking contact. But everything bloated out soon, as i realized those eyes had much more to say beyond the apparent plainness - stories which deserve more than a look brimmed with sympathy flowed out of them. And to me, it felt as if a beehive ruptured. Nothing except hymns of bees trumpeted inside my head - shrill, and dragging me back to those deliriums i spent amidst drowsy colours which in vain I opposed. When I was back the lady had disappeared - but only for a moment to be discovered again on turning back. I ran back to her, called her "amma", she would not hear. Probably she was deaf. Or if she had been blessed, she wasnt - miseries must have given her strength to remain far from all madness even when right amidst a clattering crowd.
A swift set of steps was enough for me to catch up with her in a couple of seconds, she wasnt in a hurry. Me too. I took from my pocket all coins i had, and with contemplation, i gave it all to her. Poor being will atleast have a lunch to keep her up and walking. And this time it was as if the ripples were back to life again. I could see them moving, curving as her lips tried hard to bring out a smile which had been lost way back- at some place, some point of time which had no milestones or signboards to trace it back to. And I had just restored it. I was then the happiest person for a moment.
The realization wasnt completely a new one. There had been moments similar in presentation but offering lesser takeaways - blame nothing else but the ego which had cocooned me in till now. And more were in store for me, what a blissful morning I had. A subsiding grudge over the missed breakfast was not in my mind anymore. At tea-time, i was all set to replenish the lost breakfast through snacks and coffee, and with good justice to this i started attacking the "medu vadas". As the 11 o'clock sun, through its warm, filtered greetings invited me to the good times ahead, the bygone memories kept me back with equal thrust. I yearned, to be back, dropping out of the unpredictable future - if only i knew to lag behind time. But it's time i corrected this attitude. Stepping up to the challenges with a strong hold on the past is the need. And pulling aside only means catching up is not possible. The from-undated dilemma of choosing my cup of tea finally is about to arrive at an answer. A kitten, the weakest i have ever seen, appeared from behind the trolley in which tea jugs and snacks were kept. A sunken body on a skeletal frame succeeded the head which was held loose on a thin neck - but there was a flicker of hope and anxiety in its stride, I was interested in the personality of that small creature. I was looked at, for a moment. I felt my shoulders sinking, and after a moment's roam in one of the sub-conscious corners, my mind resettled to find that my legs had not failed me, I havent collapsed yet. I am sure the creature noticed my momentary breakdown, and, as though understanding everything completely, it reduced its ferocity in eyes a little, and passed over to attempting to get something palatable. It limped around the trolley, staring at every single person having tea, anticipating among the crowd somebody human enough to show a tinge of kindness to this one of their tiny feline friends. I threw over a "medu vada", which the cat ate with excitement. I thought it will want more, but no, it gave a last glance, and strode away.
Were the old lady and the cat running back in time? Or atleast they were "pause" keys to the blind race I run for, I am thankful to them for the memorable pitstops they gave....