Awaara

"Awaara hoon!" I used to like that song. "My shoes are from Japan, my trousers are from England, and my red hat is from Russia." Raj Kapoor, as the lovable vagrant singing his heart out as he roams around, the citizen of the world.

These days, as I walk my dog, I feel the same. I even look like him, at least my outfit does. I don't look lovable, though. And I am no citizen of the world. I live in America. As I get older, I am more and more aware of my "homelessness". I do not belong anywhere. Like many an expatriate, I feel alienated and alone no matter where I am. I know you will say that alienation is felt by many people, even in their own homelands, even in their own homes.True. And that there are people who are really homeless. True, again. Just that this is one other offshoot of this thing called "life', and mind.

I love watching the geese and their young ones. I love to watch them cross busy streets. The leader up front, stepping gracefully, pompously even, the rest following, with another adult keeping guard, at the very end, checking to see if all the youngsters are gathered all right. I know they are a nuisance to many, as they waste the time of busy people who are on the go, holding up the traffic. And especially when they dirty up the sidewalks and yards. That does not make me stop feeling sorry for them. When we installed ponds and lakes in our neighborhoods maybe we didn't think that these exotic guests would arrive. Or maybe we thought they would leave. But they either liked it here or they just did not have the energy to leave, or they just did not have any place to go to anymore, or cannot go at all. Not that those who are not visitors, but existed (anywhere) way before, fared any better.

I love watching the geese and their young ones. I love to watch them cross busy streets. The leader up front, stepping gracefully, pompously even, the rest following, with another adult keeping guard, at the very end, checking to see if all the youngsters are gathered all right. I know they are a nuisance to many, as they waste the time of busy people who are on the go, holding up the traffic. And especially when they dirty up the sidewalks and yards. That does not make me stop feeling sorry for them. When we installed ponds and lakes in our neighborhoods maybe we didn't think that these exotic guests would arrive. Or maybe we thought they would leave. But they either liked it here or they just did not have the energy to leave, or they just did not have any place to go to anymore, or cannot go at all. Not that those who are not visitors, but existed (anywhere) way before, fared any better.

I find myself asking a goose who comes close to my parked car, hoping for a treat-- why are you even here, you silly goose? No one wants you here anymore, they never did.  Why don't you go back to where you came from? They have already started killing you, your babies, destroying your eggs before they hatched. Run! Run as far away as you can! But-- you can fly! did you forget that? Fly! Fly away! Far away! Where no one will touch you. Get away! for yourself! For your babies! For the survival of your species.

I am in my well- worn linen pants that shrunk in the wash, so they reach just above the ankle, my faded oversize jacket, and my walking shoes and khaki hat.  As I walk my dog, thinking I look like a clown, I amend myself, no, not just a clown, but an "awaara"--vagrant.  And, what AM I doing here?