The car comes to a halt at a traffic light, and even as you switch off the engine, to preserve fuel (reason 1) and to be ‘green’ (reason 2, an afterthought), you notice this little child coming towards your car clutching a few bouquets of red roses, with the pleading look in her eyes, asking you to buy them. The pleading look does not in any way undermine the pride in her eyes. The pride could have been fiercer, if fate and destiny had not played a part in putting her in this situation when girls her age went to fancy schools and had birthday parties where thousands were spent by adoring parents, out to prove a point. Fate sucks. What kind of a country allows it’s young to lead lives like this? But then, it’s so much easier to blame the government than to introspect on what we ourselves are doing wrong in our lives. With the continuous cribs of the chatterati on how difficult it is to get maids and cooks and other sundry domestic help, it is almost a fervent prayer for most of us, that one section of the population remain un-empowered, so that the other sections of the population can be looked after. The grudging admittance that even the guys in the advanced world do not have help, unless they are stinking rich. Better be an Indian.
And then the dilemma....to buy these roses and help out a poor girl whose only livelihood this was, or to buy these roses because you needed them to give to someone you love, or wish to make up with or......
Since the ‘someone’ doesn’t exist, with a large void in the ‘heart’ department, how then can you help out this little girl, and feel good about yourself? You make a half-hearted attempt to reach out to your wallet which is difficult, since the seatbelt doesn’t afford too much flexibility. Ok, so you can remove the seatbelt, but then.....the meter is ticking.....15 seconds... 14 seconds...13 seconds...12 seconds...11 seconds...
Kitne ka hai? The girl mutters a figure and immediately says she is willing to give it for less if you but take it. She also has her eyes on the ticker.... 7 seconds...6 seconds...5 seconds... Well, time to switch on the ignition. Her hands rest on the windows, now half open.... 3 seconds....2 seconds......the guys behind you start honking impatiently, time to go.
The girl gives you a look to indicate she would have been better off seeking patronage elsewhere and not with a chump like you..... You almost agree, with the distaste that this failed encounter, has left in your mouth. Then the rationalisation process begins. (a) You can help one kid but you cannot change the world. (b) Maybe its her Karma. (c) Anyway, you never needed the roses in the first place. (d) Also, the creator had played dirty with you too, depriving you of love.
So there, we are even. Or, are we?
As the girl walks off, with a distress that only the dispossessed can feel, and the sure knowledge that her parents or keepers will convey to her, their harshness, in the manner best known to them, for failing to sell, a car drives off with the driver feeling like shit, for having good intentions, but bad execution.
The road to hell is paved with good intentions...
