Being misunderstood.

maybe i didnt experience this feeling in its unbearable form but, in minute incidents i did experience it. last Sunday, when i was returning from my Sunday thing. i was tired of cycling all day, it was dark, my bicycle has no head light, there wear no street lights.

i entered auroville, and cycling in its dark and forest road. my body know its muscle memory, how to cycle. road was nothing new. mind taking advantage of the cold breeze, zoned out, looking at the handle. head tilted, just enough so neck feel any pressure.

Looked up, there was this white lady in her jogging cloths, torchlight in her hand. dont know how her face looks. she has all the reasons to think that i am a jerk, teasing her. ideally or bit pessimistic, if i was that women, i would have i think same, i guess. i know me for the longest time, i am nothing like that.

I dont why i didnt went back to apologies, maybe because i still speculating about it in my head. i imagined shouting soorrrrrry, would be a theater. Saying sorry was just not the moment.

On the other side, she can be someone who doesn’t resort to the easiest stereotype and, give herself a benefit of doubt that it maybe a accident or someone, her content is so secure that this alone doesn’t spoil her mood. even if she felt it rude, she could be someone who just shrug it off with a forgiving, confused but pleasant smile.

I Thing i can hope for that, bcoz i am that person, atleast most of the time. I am the source of confidence that maybe there is someone in the world like me, there is a possibility bcoz i am hear. this confidence differs from aspect of lift to aspects.

In some things, where i am the worst, world has to offer. there is obliviously some thing best. its probably gets difficult to accept or hope for it.