There
is this one guy I came across recently. I don't remember the guy's name but he
really was quite unique. His whole appearance was.
He
looked like someone out of a Sergio Leone movie. He had deep face lines, strong
sharp jaw, deep set eyes, a tight lip crease, his ears were sharp and upwards
like his nose, a week’s stubble covered his face, he had a slender physique
with a taut back, his arms were tanned and with callous hands and thick
fingers. The look he gave you was piercing and openly challenging.
He
wore tattered dirty shirt with sweat stains with seams that were too dark of
dust and of wearing too long. He wore faded jeans, which probably weren't faded
while store bought, the hems were torn and threadbare.
He
spoke zero Hindi or very little of any other language I understood. He spoke
some dialect of Gujarati I barely could comprehend. All I could decipher was
that he was travelling to his hometown back from selling some garment clothes. At
least that’s what I thought his sign language meant.
The
reason I even got around to talking to this guy was because I was staring at
his knuckles a bit too long and he began to feel uncomfortable and came at me.
How was I to help myself? It was such a sight to behold. I asked him about what
he did; he tried to communicate his profession to me in broken Gujarati, all I
understood that he was a laborer of some sort, not the skilled kind I'd guess.
That explained his physique. He was built like an ox.
Damn
how I wish I had taken a picture of him.
This
guy would have been some painter's or sculptors or photographer's vision a
salt-of-the-earth guy. Like John Wayne or a less toothy Eli Wallace maybe. Yeah well, maybe Anurag Kashyap finds him to be the next Nawazuddin.
Today,
I will think of that face while I see “The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance”.
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