It's the Small Things | A Walk to Remember

I like walking. I like the sun.

Put them together during the summer, the sultry summers of Delhi, and you have the worst combination.

Yet, on frequent occasions I turn to walking even on such days of disrepute – the sun beating down on my face, the sweat slithering along – because I don’t want to bother negotiating with an autowallah, or because the booked auto is unable to fetch my correct location, or because I am ignorant of the bus service.

The good old Delhi metro comes to the rescue at such hours, but the metro stations usually happen to be at least a kilometre and a half distance from my ‘points’ of deliberation, and thus,

I walk.

I haven’t seen myself walking, in the way a second person would, but the least I am aware of is that I am a brisk, and ‘intimidating’, walker.

I swoop across paths that I usually chart for myself, many a times cruising through the crowd, surpassing slow and fast walkers alike. Sometimes, I take brief moments, albeit without stopping, to think about why am I walking so fast. I get no convincing answer.

But in my defence, I walk fast because it’s required to play the game in my head in which I can’t stop or linger until I’ve reached my destination. It sounds stupid, but it’s quite fun, especially when I have to steer in the face of ‘obstacles’ in the form of loitering groups, open potholes, slow walkers, resting dogs, piles of dung, muddy puddles, and the likes. And thus,

I walk fast, and I walk alone.

People don’t usually follow my gait, nor the reason behind my haste (I wish more people played my walking game). Companions complain that I leave them behind, which I try to make up for by slowing into an awkward pace.

Friends have on previous occasions complained that I made them walk over long distances when it wasn’t needed. Well, I don’t buy this. Walking is exactly what is needed! Convenience has gotten the best of us, and it’s time we unlearn the use of convenient modes of conveyance. Walking is a good way to start.

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Anyway, I was walking, rather, pacing along the busy roads of Lodhi Road, on one not-so-fine afternoon of a sultry Delhi day, when my eyes fell on the Mausam Bhawan (Indian Meteorological Department) building at a distance. A fleet of buses were parked in front, and I spotted a few school kids queued outside.

I was in the middle of my game.

I glided across the broken queue of primary school kids, ignoring the eager eyes that passed me as I went along.

A few metres ahead was another line of some middle-school girls. As I tore through their queue, I felt a few pairs of eyes following me. But, I couldn’t stop.

Until she called out, “Helllllo!”

I stopped and turned.

A girl of about 15, donning a pair of sunglasses over her pale, peach-coloured uniform, smiled at me.

“Helllo!” I returned in my sweetest tone.

“School ka picnic hai tumhara yahan? (Are you on a school picnic here?)” I continued (wondering why our school never brought us here).

“Yes, ma’am!”, she replied in excitement.

“Chalo enjoy karo fir (Enjoy)!” I parted with these words, and a smile that wouldn’t leave me.

§

There are not many things that would stop me in my tracks. My game drives me through the course of my destination-based walks (I don’t play it when I am enjoying a stroll, or some mindless saunter). Yet, here I was, in the middle of my walk, stopping to exchange a few words and smiles with a little girl who had Helloed me from behind.

Not many things touch me in the way that small Hello did. It was unplanned but intended. I could feel her happiness at having said that Hello out loud. Most Hellos never find their way out.

I hope that girl grows up to be a slow walker, cherishing the world as she walks along paths, both familiar and foreign. I hope she doesn't fall prey to the walking game and end up losing out on Hellos in the world.

I lost my game that day even as the sun felt lighter during the rest of my walk.

Juno Negi is a researcher and writer based between Delhi and Uttarakhand, and blogs at Words for Thoughts.

We’ve grown up hearing that “it’s the small things” that matter. That’s true, of course, but it’s also not – there are Big Things that we know matter, and that we shouldn’t take our eyes, minds or hearts off of. As journalists, we spend most of our time looking at those Big Things, trying to understand them, break them down, and bring them to you.

And now we’re looking to you to also think about the small things – the joy that comes from a strangers’ kindness, incidents that leave you feeling warm, an unexpected conversation that made you happy, finding spaces of solidarity. Write to us about your small things at thewiresmallthings@gmail.com in 800 words or less, and we will publish selected submissions. We look forward to reading about your experiences, because even small things can bring big joys.

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