Security of the Insecure

Walking through some of the main thoroughfares of the city and coming across several people living on pavements along streets, I was wondering what the security of these insecure people is. I have seen the people who are living for almost three generations just in front of one of our houses, look for cover as soon as the rains started pouring, or as soon as stormy wind begin to take their rooftops forcefully. Everyone knows how the families living on pavements with small children suffer during the monsoon, when the members lose their jobs, and have very little to eat. I would like to think aloud about the security of the insecure. I am all the time conscious of my security, be it material or moral or social or cultural, or even spiritual. But what is the security that the people who live on slums and pavements or railway platforms experience?

If I were to take a survey about how the so-called insecure people living on the fringes of the society themselves feel about life, I should be prepared for some startling facts. One of the facts which I hardly ever take into consideration is their happiness quotient. I would think that these insecure people would strangely rank much higher in the happiness quotient than the so-called secure people, you and I, or in that case all those who are living in palatial buildings. No amount of natural disaster or human-made calamities can take away the joy and happiness of these people, and even in the worst of privations, there would still be meat being cooked. What is the secret of the high ranking of the happiness quotient of these people?

We would be surprised to observe that these people have no bank accounts, no savings for the future, no gold and silver jewels, no extra-ordinary electronic gadgets (they hardly burn candles or kerosene lamps, thanks to the street lamps, and how can they use any electronic gadgets), and yet they are happy about life, and nothing seem to stop their zest for life. This is a riddle for which we may have no answer, and even these people may not have any satisfactory answer. Living on the third floor of a building I used to look down on these people often, and they seemed to be having more peaceful sleep with all the noise and pollution than I with less noise and pollution. But I feel my search for an answer to the high rate of happiness quotient in these people is finally arriving at some sort of an orientation.

It may sound again like a riddle, but the security of these people is in their insecurity; I am reminded of a proverb in my mother tongue, which says, why do you need a scarf for a person who had got wet completely. If I am wet thoroughly, I don’t need to protect my head with a scarf; and if we are to apply this theory to the insecure people, we will realize that they have lost almost all the greatest pleasures of life, such as money, possessions, influence, muscle-power, and like Maurya in Riders to the Sea says, there is nothing the sea can take from me, these people could look at the world around and with a beaming smile say, there is nothing you can take away from us. That is where their security lies, and that calls for a serious questioning our so-called securities.

If we dare to learn a lesson from these people, then it is obvious that whatever we consider as the harbingers of true security do not in fact make us secure. This implies that the more we give up and welcome insecurity in life, the more secure we become, and that is when we begin to be happy, and the happiness quotient slowly rises. Is it possible that the haves will ever dare to give up their much hard-earned money, wealth, riches and power to go in vain? It may be painful for someone to give these up, especially if one had risked one’s life and earned it with sheer sweat, but ultimately what matters is not to perish with the riches and welcome an untimely death; those who dare to slowly detach themselves from these worldly securities are sure to gain something far more enjoyable and lasting, true security and happiness.

The Pavement-Dweller

Every time I cross Allen Park, on my way to St Xavier's College, I cannot miss this young girl sitting on the pavement, sometimes begging, sometimes just sitting and whiling away her time. It is about three months since she is seen around Allen Park; she has as her possession, a worn out polythene bag, containing God knows what. Sometimes I had seen her walking with this bag in hand. I had also seen her merrily singing a song (probably in Hindi), and one tends to think she is out of her head, or else which young girl on earth would dare to live alone on a busy city street. I don't know how she manages to eat her meals and spend her night. Malnutrition had made her but a set of bones and skeleton. But her life too goes on.

She does not seem to disturb anyone, nor demand money from those busy men and women who walk the path incessantly, from morning till night. No one may come to know what made her to resort to Camac Street, one of the busiest city streets, with highlevel business centers, and connecting to the most important street of the city, the Park Street (aka Mother Teresa Sarani)! I dare not think of spending even a single night on a street alone; you cannot be sure what could happen to you - the flesh-monging men prawling around the city at night, the bribe-monging police men on their patrol, the beggars and drug-peddlers seeking some dark corners to experiment with syringes and alumnium foil...

But she does not seem to be bothered about any of these; as I walk past her at about 6 O'clock in the morning, I can see her going to occupy her own place on the pavement. Does she believe in the providence of God, who knows how to feed the birds of the air and clothe the lillies of the field? I feel guilty looking at her, and quite many times, before reaching the place where she sits, I cross to the other side of the road and feel happy I don't need to see the pitiful sight she lives in. But deep within I know something keeps pricking me! These days when it is quite cold at night and early in the morning, these girl is seen with hardly any warm clothes.

My educated and religiously oriented mind begins to question the designs of God - how can God be so cruel to let this girl, who cannot be more than 20 years old, seek asylum on a busy street, with no one to care for her! How can the world be so indifferent and hostile towards her? We all of us want to close our eyes from seeing the bitter reality, which is one of the fruits of human greed and self-centeredness. can we really blame God for what we have made to the world? One of the most horrifying sights in the recent days was, when I could notice her drying her only set of clothes after washing, and herself sitting on the floor with a cloth around her waist, and another cloth on her shoulders! This is reality, and she does not seem to blame anyone for this!

I am not sure if I ever will be able to reach out to her in any way, and assure her that the world cares for her, and that I too am responsible for her plight; I may not have the guts to do anything for her, nor do I really have any "connections" to get her a fair deal from the world and humanity. But my insensitivity and that of those living such cosy and comfortable life cannot close our eyes from the stark reality taking shape each morning and evening. I only know that if not today or tomorrow, at least one day before I reach the grave I may have the guts to reach out to a person struggling with life, and give my hand!