Auld Lang Syne

Wednesday 11 November, after an exhaustive work day, I signed off at 7:45 pm. I finished the third dinner at the same fast food restaurant this week and quickly headed to the bus stop, hoping to get home before 9:30 pm.

As I dragged myself along with my mind miles away, I nearly tumbled onto an old man near a minibus stop. I stepped aside reflexively and stopped to ponder momentarily. The man, in his 70s, sat on the sidewalk with his legs apart and stared vacantly at the road. He was nearly bald with a thin layer of white hair on the side of his head. I could see only 2 or 3 teeth from his half opening mouth. His worn light blue towel shirt looked fairly clean under the blue quilted nylon jacket but his grey cotton tracksuit bottoms would need some washing. His tanned feet were chapped and silvery under the fluorescent lights. His nails were neatly contoured by black lines at the opening tip of his blue plastic slippers.

“What on earth is he doing here?” I thought.

“Why doesn’t he sit elsewhere?”

“Is he a beggar,” I puzzled, “or is he a tenant of a nearby old age home?”

“What’s he looking for with the sad gaze in his eyes?”

He ignored my presence by his side and I told myself to mind my own business. I walked on for another 20 feet to wait for my bus. I played with my phone, trying to kill off the waiting time. Yet, I could not help looking back at this old folk again and again and asking myself if I should have done something.

“What thing then?” I grumbled.

“He may want help! He may be hungry! He may be sick! He may be one of those with dementia!” The voice in my mind ruminated. 

I could not focus on my favourite game and kept telling myself that I would look stupid and strange if I went back to him. “He may be waiting for the next minibus,” I tried to silence off the voice.

In the end, I went back to him. “Are you alright?” I asked but he continued to stare at the road.

“Yes,” he mumbled without looking at me.

“Are you hungry? Do you want some food?”

“No.”

“Do you need any help?”

He didn’t answer but waved his hand to signal me to stop talking. He maintained his posture and gaze and I decided to leave him alone.

I went back to the end of the waiting queue but realized that nobody was bothered by or even noticed my stupid actions. They carried on with their smoking, chattering, finger-wriggling on their phone. That put me at ease but I could not stop looking at and worrying about him. As I watched, I was overcome by a sense of loneliness. People continued to stream past this old folk, but nobody gave him a single look as if he wasn’t there.

Then, I thought I found an answer – He must have sat here like this all the time to wait for the minibus, so the neighbourhood knew him well. Yet, I knew I had waited for my bus here for the past 5 years and I never met him before. I kept wishing his minibus to arrive before my bus, but he was still sitting on the sidewalk and gazing at the road when I got on my bus.

Friday 20 November, I finished late at 9:30 pm and missed the last call of the fast food restaurant. I decided to have a micro-wave dinner back home so I hurried to the bus-stop. That was a cooler evening and the street seemed much quieter. At the same spot, I met Mr. Blue Jacket. He wore the same clothes. Again, he sat on the sidewalk and gazed at the road. I made a quick glance as I walked past him. While waiting for my bus, I wished his minibus to arrive first to be sure that he got on one. Once again, mine arrived earlier than his. I told myself to quit such pathetic self-reassuring wish as I stared at him through the bus window. But, he was a sad soul in that cool and empty street, I remarked.

Tuesday 24 November, I was still in a foul mood after work and tried to cheer myself up with a hot curry chicken at the same restaurant. That did not help and I was still mulling over the troubles and grievances at work. My mental vision was only a 5 feet circle in front of my feet as I rushed down to the bus-stop. It was 8:30 pm already and my restlessness grew. I wriggled my finger fiercely on the phone to make the bus waiting time more tolerable. Two minutes waiting and my annoyance beckoned. I turned right to check if the bus was coming. There, Mr. Blue Jacket was sitting on the door curb of a closed food shop 15 feet away from me. I was shocked by his presence and my preoccupation with my little 5 feet world. He was in the same clothes. This time his mouth was not open but his gaze at the road was still fixed and vacant. Looking at him, my preoccupations suddenly shed. I felt better to see him sitting on the curb though the sadness all over him was still intense.

Wednesday 24 December, I promised to leave work punctually as a Christmas present for myself but in the end I left at 6 pm. I decided to treat myself better with a Chinese sausage and BBQ pork rice hot pot, in the same restaurant of course. It did not have much festive decoration but was playing some background music.

“What?” I exclaimed. “Why’re they playing Auld Lang Syne on Christmas Eve?” 
“That’s stupid!”

It was early evening and people might be treating themselves better in other fancy restaurants, so there were not many customers. Right a few tables in front of me, an old man had finished his dinner and he was holding a tumbler of Coke in his hand. He seemed at ease but detached. He looked familiar and I recognized he was Mr. Blue Jacket. But this evening, he was in a dark grey jacket. His presence overjoyed me.

“So, he’s got his money, at least enough for a meal here!” I teased myself. “He also has a new jacket!”

“Do you think he wears shoes or just slippers?”

“That’s none of my business!”

I enjoyed an unusual 40 minutes dinner in this restaurant and Mr. Blue Jacket Turned Grey Jacket was still sitting there with the half tumbler of Coke and staring into his far front. I could not help thinking why he was sitting on the sidewalk the other evenings and what he was gazing at or looking for. Again, I reckoned it was none of my business.

“But, he’s still a lonely soul!”

“MIND your own business!”

“True.”

The slow dinner was delightful and I found the looped background music now surprisingly meaningful and desirable.
On the bus going home in this Christmas Eve, looking at the people on the street, I think over that this is a tiny city in which countless people eat, drink, play, work, live and die together.

We manage to avoid stepping on others’ toes by having our own routines. Many of us squeeze into the lift at the same time each morning, take the same bus to work, have lunch in the same restaurant, order food from the same menu, have the same drink after lunch (mine is iced lemon tea with little sugar) and wait patiently to leave work. We run our own autopilot system. At the same time we mind our own business. We press the close button of the lift even though the hasty steps are approaching; we droop and pretend sleeping when a pregnant woman enters the train cabin; we chuckle at the sleeping man when we leave the bus at the terminus, we step aside in disgust when someone staggers along with a strong smell of alcohol and we only greet our neighbour at the doorstep “Are you going out for breakfast?” even though we heard that she and the husband screamed and sworn at each other until the small hours the night before.

It will be self-deception or worse delusion if I believe I am an exception to these animal instincts. I reckon they are the infrastructures of the massive human colonies, like the city I try to survive in, without which I may be suffocated with disappointments, sorrows and frustrations. But, admitting the inevitability, I cannot help thinking how much of our self should be taken over by the autopilot system? How much business is only our own business or others'? How capable are we to micro-manage between the autopilot and the self-steering systems? How prepared are we going to take the driving seat for ourselves? What should I rely on when my autopilot system fails or becomes redundant one day, say when I am kicked out of the economic niche because of senility or disabilities? And, who is to mind my business when I am shattered by life’s unavoidable disillusions, rejections, inequalities and cruelties?

Anyway, a new year has started, just look for and hang on to those who can sing Auld Lang Syne with you on Christmas Eve.

Should old acquaintance be forgot,

and never brought to mind?

Should old acquaintance be forgot,

and old lang syne?

For auld lang syne, my dear,

for auld lang syne,

we'll take a cup of kindness yet,

for auld lang syne.

And surely you’ll buy your pint cup!

and surely I’ll buy mine!

And we'll take a cup o’ kindness yet,

for auld lang syne.

For auld lang syne, my dear,

for auld lang syne,

we'll take a cup of kindness yet,

for auld lang syne.

We two have run about the slopes,

and picked the daisies fine;

But we’ve wandered many a weary foot,

since auld lang syne.

For auld lang syne, my dear,

for auld lang syne,

we'll take a cup of kindness yet,

for auld lang syne.

We two have paddled in the stream,

from morning sun till dine†;

But seas between us broad have roared

since auld lang syne.

For auld lang syne, my dear,

for auld lang syne,

we'll take a cup of kindness yet,

for auld lang syne.

And there’s a hand my trusty friend!

And give me a hand o’ thine!

And we’ll take a right good-will draught,
for auld lang syne.