Gold Rush The most unfortunate thing is when you rush past someone on way to some appointment in a hurry, and as an afterthought you feel you ought to have paused for a few minutes and talked. But the moment has passed. Moreover, the compulsion of reaching on time weighs you down. And yet the image of that wizened Granny in the midst of that bustling crowd on Dadar railway bridge, still haunts me after more than 12 hours.Her slight frame was bent at the waist a full 90 degrees, eyes searching for a generous soul in the crowd, hoping for a a few coins that would fetch her some tea, and if lucky, a meal later in the day may be. She stood there bare feet with her cracked soles, the handle of a dirty cloth bag wrapped around her ankles, making sure he measly possessions remain safe (whod steal it anyway?!! But i guess, it gave her some sense of security). So she reached out with her palm outstretched... imploring wordlessly, hoping that one of us who whiz past in a tearing rush as if the world would end, would pause for a moment and drop those precious coins.Their cool touch would soften the dry calloused palms and lighten the lines of worry on her wrinkled face. She searched without hope or enthusiasm in the sea of people, that would drown her. I saw all this and more in the few seconds as I rushed to change tracks across the bridge, fleetingly thought of hurriedly shoving some notes from the wallet I would rummage out of my black hole of a bag, while i aimed for the train that left in exactly 2 minutes and Ii had to cross that bridge first and run down the flight of stairs. Or Id be late (and HOW can That be allowed?!!). Immediately a wave of shame swept over me. Who the hell do you think you are? Shes a person. Not some piggy bank that you can absently shove money in and feel good. At least you must stop, smile, look at her & chat a bit, and then offer whatever money (or some food may be) that you can.. That hesitation caused me to skip a step and rush past, almost avoiding looking at her. Much like a sly thief. And then running down the stairs, I cursed my (noble) self. Such misplaced sense of honour and value. As if that would feed her or keep her alive better than being able to get some money in hand anyhow. Too ashamed to turn back and too anxious lest i get late .. I forced shut that window in my mind and got busy through the day with a terrific seminar on Autism, that gave me a sense of purpose and belongingness to a cause. And yet, way down in my soul, after all those hours, the pathos in her eyes wrings my heart and the wrinkles on her face scratch my conscience. I try to wriggle free and want to sleep..................
Posted on: Sun, 07 Dec 2014 17:48:43 +0000
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