The comfort of strangers

I met someone at the KTM a few days ago. She touched my heart. I know you hate a cliche as much as the next bloghopper, but that is a cliche that I feel is the most apt to describe how it felt.

If I had to ballpark her age, I would say older than my Tok, but younger than my Mok. That makes her anywhere from 62 to 90.

She was wearing that old lady shirt, and her hair was tucked under a black serkup. She waddled, and awkwardly carried two plastic bags with what looked like heavy things.

Before entering the train, she asked me if the train was going to Sentral, and I said yes. And I was ready to go toward the back of the train like I usually do, but she asked me again and something told me that I should stick closer to her.

She asked me again, and I could barely understand her. But she said,

"Nak, ko tolong ajar acik turun kat sentral ye" and I finally could reply,
"Ok, takpe saya pon turun kat situ" And she said alhamdulillah and looked calmer.

So we finally got to sentral, and I offered to carry her bags while she got out of the train. And while I was at it, she looked like she could use the lift and probably didn't know how to. So I walked with her to the other platform. And the whole time she held my hand and kept thanking me. Then after her repeated thanks, she began to cry and said,

"Achik ni sebatang kara. Tak de keluarga. Achik pergi Pantai Dalam ni pon nak pergi rumah kawan... mintak mintak boleh tido semalam... makan sikit... terima kasih lah ngkau tolong achik ni..."

We got to her platform and I found her a seat and gave her back her stuff and I felt bad that I had to leave her all alone. But I didn't know what else to do. I gave her a bit of money, and she cried even harder and started kissing my hands. And I salam her and said goodbye and left.

This isn't the only time that strangers have shared their woes with me, but she definitely shook me up longer than anyone else did.

Just a few days before her, Ikram and I sat next to a lady with a baby at the Pejabat Agama. She told us she was trying to get a divorce from her husband who hasn't been paying nafkah. He's been cheating on her with various women and probably has diseases. He scares the kids--all 9 of them-- whenever he comes home. He pernah tangkap khalwat JAIS, and she was even ready to enter polygamy with the girl, but the girl changed her mind (smart girl.)

And some months earlier it was in San Francisco, at the park. This lady gave us some biscuits to feed the ducks and she started telling us about how hard life is in California. How expensive things are. How she's on social security because she can't work after being hit by a car while cycling some years ago. How depressed she gets sometimes.

These stories really really make me want to punch myself in the face whenever I feel sorry for myself. I have a fricking fabulous life.