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!

The Forced Farewell

My friend was almost in tears, when she saw the middleaged man in tears. It is not common to come across a middleaged man shedding bitter tears. He was shedding tears thinking of the plight of his daughter. She, the girl in her twenties, cared very little for the emotional outburst of her father, who but had to struggle from morning till evening to make both ends meet. But she cared less for the father, who could not even afford to provide two square meals for his family members. The plight of poverty-stricken family had found a safe haven for the daughter in a secure convent walls, hoping they may see their daughter have atleast three meals a day, and a worry-free life.

But the dreams of the parents were shortlived, when the young girl decided to quit the secure life, just because she found the "correction" of the sisters too harsh. She might have had an ego, that was too bloated, and she could not think of anyone correcting her. She would do what she wanted, and everyone will have to accept it as coming from God almighty. She found these corrections excruciatingly painful, and her pain was perhaps more than the pain of her hungry father, who was proud to think that her daughter was in a town, growing up speaking English. If he too was as adamant and unrelenting as his daughter, life would have been quite different for this girl.

Life for a young girl in this world is not a bed of roses, or a smooth sail; it has its own share of toils and troubles, especially if a girl is not brought up in a conventional mould. The dropouts and distracted will have to find ways to kill not only their time, but also people with whom they can build a world of their dreams. But who is there to help this girl to start life anew, with renewed vigor and strength? Surely not her father, who is too tired of life already in his forties. His pleading with his daughter could not soften the heart of the girl, and she was leaving pastures green, in search of dry deserts, to find an oasis!

The playful heart of this girl has not taught her a lesson, that the world is not as friendly and warm as it always looks; she had taught the mirages as real, and when she is thirsty and rushes towards the mirages in order to quench her thirst, that would be the moment of self-realization, and that would be the moment she may remember what her father meant for her; what it means to be under the safe and secure care of someone you can trust. When buffeted by the never-ending currents of life, she might look for a breathing space, where she may find someone to wipe her tears. It may be too late before she finds herself in such a situation.

No one on earth has the audacity to decide the fate of another human person; not even God has the power to do that. Each one decides his/her own fate, and that would determine what we make life of. One may tell me that the fruit of a particular tree is bitter or sour, but if I am determined to taste it for myself, who can help me? But unfortunately, in life there may not be second chances, and there may not be avenues to take a U-turn. But she will find her way one day, and remember with gratitude those men and women who had corrected her to mend her ways, for it is only by pruning can a tree reach its full maturity!