Bollywood Tears

There is a particular kind of heartbreak you feel when you see someone cry. It's one thing when it's someone you know, but when it's a stranger it seems strikingly sad, perhaps because there is nothing you can do, really.

Sitting on the train, music blaring in my ears creating that amazing disconnect between the goings-on around you and the bliss in your head, my attention was attracted to someone behaving oddly. On first assessment he looked, dare I say, like a Bollywood star. Everything he wore looked designer, oh so cool shades, a general attempt to look irresistible. (And about those shades: it was night-time). He was muttering to himself, pacing between the two doors and running his fingers enthusiastically through his hair. You could have been forgiven for thinking he was practicing lines for his new musical...but with more intent inspection I saw that he was crying. Sobbing actually.

Let me pause here to say that I too have sobbed on the train once. I couldn't help myself, but I think I tried to be discreet about it, despite the rivulets. He was full-flood waterworks...if I could hear I am sure there would have been noises and everything.

I noticed some other passengers laughing at him. I felt paralysed with sadness: his tears and the attitude of his fellow passengers. Was he a nutter? Maybe. But he could also have simply been unable to contain his misery, and I know exactly how that feels. I wasn't about to get up and pat him on the back and tell him everything would be OK. Eventually. But I like to think he felt my compassion hugging him like those big blue cuddly arms in the soup advert.