There is a tunnel that leads from the platforms to the heart of a city. Its a small tunnel, about 200 yards long, but even within those 200 yards exists a whole different world. One will never be bored no matter how many times we walk through it. I find myself every single day amidst a multitude of people under those mild tungsten lights, walking at a measured pace, hands in my pocket and my heart surprisingly content. It is not as dirty as one would expect such a place to be but it is as eventful.On the walls are the paintings and photographs of the Central Sydney Railway station, that add color to it. About 10 yards into it on the left sits an old lady who reads palms for a living. She would sit in the same spot day after day offering someone or the other hope of better things to come. Her face would light up with this beautiful smile and so did her eyes. Today I found her gazing at her own palm with what I thought was a smirk in her face.
A short way in stands an old African-American gentleman with his battered guitar that made the sweetest sound with its frayed strings. But even the guitar couldn't come close to the beautiful voice that arose from this man's throat. He smiled in joy when he played and sang, his whole physique bubbling with energy and his mind lost in the music.Today he was singing 'Knocking on Heaven's door'. There was something haunting in the way he sang it, his eyes half closed, his body still and his voice crooning, honest and grounded. I stopped in my tracks and was lost along with him and five others who felt what I felt. When he was finally finished he gently lowered his gaze to us who slowly started clapping and met each and every one of our eyes. Something in his gaze said "Go forth. Everything will be fine." I started walking again.
Further down the tunnel sits a middle aged woman, an upturned cap in front of her and a sign that said "Bless each and everyone of you. Help a poor woman in need". Staring from underneath an untidy fringe of hair is the saddest pair of eyes I have ever seen. She stares straight through you and something quakes within you when you stare at them long enough. Today she was kneeling in front of a woman though. She was crying silently, tears streaming down her cheeks and soft sobs emanating from her. The woman was rubbing her shoulder and kept whispering something to her as she clutched her hand close to her chest and cried uncontrollably. I walked from there feeling assured.
It is never the same sight yesterday or tomorrow inside The Tunnel. Walk in content, walk in anger, walk in joy or walk without noticing these things around you but, as The Tunnel teaches me everyday, the world will keep going.
A short way in stands an old African-American gentleman with his battered guitar that made the sweetest sound with its frayed strings. But even the guitar couldn't come close to the beautiful voice that arose from this man's throat. He smiled in joy when he played and sang, his whole physique bubbling with energy and his mind lost in the music.Today he was singing 'Knocking on Heaven's door'. There was something haunting in the way he sang it, his eyes half closed, his body still and his voice crooning, honest and grounded. I stopped in my tracks and was lost along with him and five others who felt what I felt. When he was finally finished he gently lowered his gaze to us who slowly started clapping and met each and every one of our eyes. Something in his gaze said "Go forth. Everything will be fine." I started walking again.
Further down the tunnel sits a middle aged woman, an upturned cap in front of her and a sign that said "Bless each and everyone of you. Help a poor woman in need". Staring from underneath an untidy fringe of hair is the saddest pair of eyes I have ever seen. She stares straight through you and something quakes within you when you stare at them long enough. Today she was kneeling in front of a woman though. She was crying silently, tears streaming down her cheeks and soft sobs emanating from her. The woman was rubbing her shoulder and kept whispering something to her as she clutched her hand close to her chest and cried uncontrollably. I walked from there feeling assured.
It is never the same sight yesterday or tomorrow inside The Tunnel. Walk in content, walk in anger, walk in joy or walk without noticing these things around you but, as The Tunnel teaches me everyday, the world will keep going.
