Category : Articles

Sub Category : Lifestyle

I used to see him sitting on the footpath everyday. Yes, he used to be there every single day in his formals near the police booth. I saw him daily while coming home from school. He was old and wore spectacles which were somewhere between old fashioned and trendy. His loose skin and the noticable absence of quite a few teeth indicated that he was old. Neither terribly old nor briskly young. Just somewhere in between. He sat on the footpath where a few traffic policemen used to give him company. The rest of the story is something I interpreted. He had once been a policeman too, and has now retired and now misses his job terribly. So terribly that he won't leave a day to come and sit next to the police booth on the footpath, even when there is no one to give him company. His eyes move around the traffic just the way it had for years. It has probably become a habit. The only difference is that all he can do now is look at the roads now, while once upon a time, he could regulate them too. He misses his profession, probably like many others would. But, what keeps him from keeping home? Maybe he has no family anymore. Maybe his profession is what meant family to him and he can't bear the thought of leaving it. Maybe it is the same old clinche of children having gone abroad for earning their bread. That I do not know. But I know one thing for sure, that for some people a profession can become a habit. It would have been a mean of earning a living but also ends up becoming a way of living.