The other day on the train, I noticed that a small girl on the opposite seat was intently looking at me. You know what it feels like – meeting a child’s clear, open, curious eyes. Kids are not ashamed to stare, to inquire, to interact. I couldn’t hold that gaze. I responded for about 5 seconds, then looked away (to take a deep breath). Then I again checked to see whether she was still looking at me.
And she was.
That’s where I realized the most wonderful and stunning distinction between adults and children (except size of course… size is fun, you can look over the edge of a table when you’re an adult, and be allowed to participate fully in a conversation – I enjoy that bit most). Yet have you ever thought of how amazing is the ability of children to look into a stranger’s eyes without judgement! A child’s eyes look upon a lady, a man, a healthy person, an ill person, a well dressed person, dog, butterfly, in the same open way, welcoming new impressions, welcoming interaction. How different that is from how adults usually look at each other!
Choose a random adult stranger of your memory, one of those you meet on the train or bus, or at the supermarket, and imagine looking into their eyes for more than 5 seconds. Feels good? Or would you feel cautious before doing that? Looking into an adult’s eyes can be misinterpreted, can be taken as aggression, intimidation, unwelcome sexual interest. Looking into an adult’s eyes, you can find things there that you never wanted to see. You find that the one you’re looking at has found their answers for everything in life, and you have yours; what more inquiry is necessary? Both of you turn your eyes away before needing to face that uncomfortable truth, before your truths start a war against each other.
So today we are grownups. Today… other people’s faces are something we automatically avoid in impersonal situations. The closer the person sits to us on the train, the more we avoid facing them. Isn’t it funny? We worry about things like, what if my glance causes discomfort (to me or the other, or both)? What if eye-contact lasts longer than I intended and leaves a bad aftertaste? What if the eyes that return my gaze… are scornful? What if I mess up the entire hour of my train ride by having become too aware of the person in front of me? Both of us would keep fidgeting, coughing nervously, adjusting our clothes, having become self-aware. Turning up the volume on our music players. Uncomfortable. Judged.
Better not risk that, right? So I keep looking out the window pretending I’m not even here. The others are pretending just like me, after all. (They are watching my reflection in the window, though. Hey, but I do the same too. This for some reason seems legitimate.) Everyone locked up in their comfortable train-cocoon. Shut off from public eyes. We bump into each other while getting off the train, and mumble an impersonal apology, avoiding each other’s face. We move on.
Yet the child in us is alive, don’t you think. Sneaking glances at the window reflections of other grown-up children on the train.
The picture is taken from http://www.flickr.com/photos/jannem/... thanks a lot! Wonderful shot. When I was in Japan, I noticed most passengers would either sleep on the train or read something. A Japanese friend told me that sleeping was often pretence - so as not to have to face others.
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