The Brick-Man

Life in a city is a slave to many things. You have to cope with its speed, its rising expenses, its pollution, its opportunities all molded into the hands of a clock. Its weekdays represent wanton ambition; its weekends offer succor. On the weekend, weary city-zens try to clear the dust on their lives and in their relationships.  

The park is one such escape for middle-aged fathers like me, to reward their weekend mornings and to see their kids realize their natural instinct – to play. In this island of greenery I meet known and new faces; young old men and old young men. I get greeted by familiar faces, many I don’t know names of, nor do they know mine. It is a relationship born of familiarity that remains limited to the hour spent inside the park’s gates or, chance meeting in market areas.

Among the faces that became familiar, was a man in his mid-40s. I first saw him almost 2 years ago, using bricks as weights for stretching and strength exercises. Apart from sincerity, his various exercises did not show method. The place in the park, where he chose to do his exercises, never changed. On rare days when I did not see him, the bricks surrogated his presence. A year later, we would greet each other – limited to “Good Morning”. His attire spoke of his modest means, his eyes of self-esteem. Occasionally if a football trespassed into his marked area, he would kick it back gleefully. These and several other instances exuded his friendliness not just to the people in the park, but also to his life.

The park brings interesting people; some get drawn to conversation by my active affable sons. Once I met a man who worked as a Yoga instructor and looked exceptionally fit for his 58 years. He advised joining his class, which I inconveniently declined. I believed sweating in the gym was cooler. Few weeks later I saw the Yoga instructor talking to the brick-man, I spoke earlier. I found the instructor correcting his postures and teaching some Asanas. Another weekend, ambling down the jogging track, I found him asking someone to check if he was doing his breathing right. He sounded like an excited sophomore.

With onset of monsoons, which stretch from end-May to early-October in Mumbai, the park blooms with greenery.Rains convert the children play area into a mud pool, much to their delight and to the chagrin of their mothers. Incessant rains on certain weekends interrupted my weekly visits, sometimes on my own volition. Prospect of calls and visits to our pediatrician scared the idea of taking kids out in the rain. Injuries had prevented me from going to the gym early last year and hence, I substituted with Yoga. The rains nurtured this new form of fitness in my life.

As the skies cleared and the mud dried, I returned with my kids to the park. The familiar faces returned and new ones emerged. The brick-man smiled at me and the kids. As the kids played, I looked around and saw him stationed at his marked place doing Surya Namaskar. On another weekend, I found him talking to a lady who appeared uncomfortable with her knees. She was overweight and aged beyond her years. She was being directed with some basic hand and leg movements, which she looked eager to adopt. Following week-ends I saw people of various ages, some who could afford personal trainers, taking directions on better breathing and exercises. The credence that brick-man had built was unmistakable. His daily presence and relentless practice was witnessed by the regular visitors to the park, gradually earning a certain endorsement.

Few weeks back, as the kids played I walked up to him and greeted. I asked – “Can you please check if I am doing Surya Namaskar correctly?”

Returning home that morning, I spoke to my father about the brick-man. During his visits to Mumbai, he used to accompany us to the park. He recollected asking the man what he did for a living and if he was regular to the park. The brick-man’s reply, that my father shared, will remain with me forever.

‘I work for a small firm. The pay is inadequate to support my family and I cannot afford falling sick. In my 40s, the time in the park is my bid to avoid medical bills.’

As I looked back at the last 2 years, I saw a man transforming from a desire to avoid medical bills, to someone who practiced and demonstrated resilience, everyday.