He looked like a lost young man. He was slim, tall and had an unusually long neck. He took the same stairs as I did. He was sprinting on the stairs; a gust of gutkha breeze greeted me as he sped past me. He then cleared his throat, the sound echoed in the basement stairs. He coughed again to collect all the juices and gutkha remnants in his mouth and got ready to spit it out with force. He was going to spit near the sign which clearly read “Don’t spit here!” I wanted to stop him.
And suddenly he stopped. He then bowed to the wall and did a respectful Pranaam. When I got near the spot, I saw "Hanuman Ji" balancing a mountain on his left hand and holding a mace in his right hand. I am talking about his picture of course. I couldn’t suppress a smile. In a country where rules are broken for fun, where notice boards don’t mean a thing, where politics is appeasement, where voting is caste and religion based, where civic sense is zero, where cops can be bought for less than a hundred bucks, where judges can be bribed, where no one stops for nobody, where everyone has contacts, where people race on highways, where people don’t help accident victims, where harassing women is called “eve teasing”, where women are worshiped and raped at the same time, Religion probably is the only thing which is taken seriously.
I stopped and smiled at "Hanuman Jee" and did a respectful pranaam as well. The war of theists and atheists will continue forever but I wanted to thank him for saving the wall from being stained.
