You See, I Observe

By Ansh Mundra.

You see, I observe.

You see a baby crying in his pram and think of it as another annoying infant. I observe the baby’s need for his mother’s milk and the mother’s indifference as she continues to move her thumbs on her cell-phone.

You see a couple arguing and think of it as a petty fight. I observe the pain in the woman’s eyes, the scars on her neck, the man’s balled up fists and the woman resisting the urge to burst out crying, again.

You see a man with a misshapen face and flinch. I observe the way he asks someone to tie their shoelaces so that they don’t trip, the warmth in his eyes and the way he flashes his teeth ignoring all the on lookers staring at him like creeps.

You see a man with a black bag, messy hair, shirt drenched in sweat and look away. I observe the picture of his twins and wife flash up on his phone as he receives a call from the latter, the way he assures and re-assures her that he’ll be home soon and the way his body-language changes from stressed to contented as he knows all of this is worth it.

You see an old man with a piece of paper in his hand and assume that he is lost and is asking for directions. I observe the forlorn pallor reflecting on his face as he looks at the picture of his deceased wife, the way his tears well up and innocently mouths with a smile on his face, ‘Happy birthday..’.

You see a woman at the bar asking for a drink and let your judgmental mindset go on a run. I observe the sadness in her eyes, her tired body and the note in her purse as she digs in, hoping to find some money for this final drink, which reads, ‘Why I ended mine.’


You see, I observe.




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