How many times in our lives do we realize that we are lucky and we should be happy with whatever little that we have? Not many a times, eh! Why? That’s because we are always taught to look upon at some one who is better than us. We always idolize people in our society who are successful and celebrities in their own area of work. Nothing’s wrong in that, obviously.
Just stop for a moment and think, in the habit of idolizing someone famous and big, aren’t we always wanting more? Aren’t we always dissatisfied with whatever we have?
Again, nothing’s wrong in that.
The job is not good, the salary isn’t taking good care of me, the house is pathetic where I am living, my relatives are bad, my friends bitch behind my back, I don’t have time for exercise, I don’t have time to pursue my dreams, blah, blah, blah. Sounds familiar! Don’t we all complain or hear our friends complaining on all such topics.
But what about a woman, who doesn’t have proper clothes to hide her skin! What will she complain about?
Well, when I was in Hyderabad, some 2 years back in 2005, I used to take the public bus to my office. One day, as usual I was standing at a bus stop, waiting for my bus to arrive. As per my habit, I was casually looking at the people around me. Something really got my notice.
Sitting next to the pole which held the shade of the bus stop, was a middle-aged woman who looked very frail. She was wearing under skirt and a faded blue “kurta” over it. Her hair was cut-short and disheveled. Her cheek-bones were showing and her eyes were popping-out. She had something like a shawl draped around her. Her legs folded with the knees close to her chin and her hands held the legs together. I thought it’s just another beggar and I was true. She was just another beggar.
Buses came and buses went and the crowd around me was thinning.
It was considerably a cold morning and I observed that her clothes were in shreds. She was somehow trying to cover herself, pulling her skirt sometime to cover her legs completely at the same time she was trying to pull the shawl tighter around herself so that she feels warmer. The shawl was not able to cover her completely and I wondered why? I had a closer look and realized that it wasn’t a shawl at all but a political banner made of coarse cotton brought into use as a shawl by this poor woman.
Whenever she saw someone coming to the bus-stop she would somehow drag herself to them and beg. I thought probably she is handicapped. She would drag herself back to her place next to the pole and again try and cover herself to avoid the cold.
I saw around her a bit more and saw a bundle, kept very close to her, which probably was her only asset. All her assets wrapped in a dirty cloth!
Once again, there was a new addition to the passengers waiting at the bus stop. This time she was trying hard to stand. She wasn’t handicapped then! Mustering all her strength and taking the support of the pillar, she finally was able to stand. Somehow, she lamed to her new expected sponsor. And again she walked back to the same place.
She wasn’t handicapped. She was too frail, too weak, too unfed, and her only dream was to get enough money to get some food, to get some clothes, to get some secured place to stay.
She got back to her place and kept the little change in a side pocket hanging in her skirt. As she was again trying to cover her from the chill in the air, I really couldn’t avoid tears trickling down my cheek, in public. Unknowingly I put my hand in my purse and whatever cash that I could grab in my hand, I gave it to her.
What happened to her family! Where are her kids? Have they driven her out! Where is her husband? Is he dead or abandoned her! Or didn’t she ever marry? Then where are her parents, her siblings? Why is she here, fighting to survive? Is she suffering from some disease? Being a woman, she might have been physically abused as well. I hope not!
What’s wrong? Why is she being punished? Why does she have to live such a life? Why can't she have two full meals in a day, when we the so-called better placed people throw food without giving a second thought! What did her bundle of assets contain? Some of the memories of her past, some clothes probably! That was all with her to protect and call her own. Just a small bundle!
From that day on, whenever I was at bus stand, I used to look for her and I had promised myself, everyday, I would put my hand in my purse and whatever money would come into my hand would be hers’. I started believing, let it be her luck and if someday, I felt that the money was too less to offer to her, I would deliberately add some more to it.
One day while lying on my bed I was contemplating …
Why I didn’t find this woman before few weeks! Where was she before she came to this bus stop! Oh! This bus stop was very close to a temple which served free food to the poor people. That is why she was here.
A few months passed by. Now she had started recognizing me very well. The moment I would reach the bus-stop, she would see me (Did I see a glint in her eye, when she saw me?) and try to get up and come to me. I would walk to her directly and do what I was to do.
As days passed by, I got used to her presence at the bus-stop. The first thing I looked for at the bus-stop was her until one day when I didn’t find her there. I waited for her until my bus came. Probably she has gone somewhere. But I was worried. Next day as well, she wasn’t there. Is she alright! Where is she?
Days passed by and then months… I never saw her after that. I really dont know what happened to her. And I didn't want to think and believe the worst. I even considered going to the temple to find out about her. But what would I have told those temple boarders! I didnt even knew her name. Just knew her... I still can envision her, her sad face, her sullen look. She looked so pitiable. I wish I could make a difference to at least her life. But...
I am not trying to convey that we at our social stature should not think big or dream big or for that matter even crave for things which we want. But nonetheless, we should spare some thoughts to the underprivileged who aren’t as lucky as we are; whose only aspiration in life is to have two full meals in a day.
[Friends, I haven’t told this story to anyone except my mom and Bhavya, my roomie then. As far as I remember, even they are not aware that I gave money to this woman. I have just included this detail here so that it gives some inspiration to everyone and especially to me once again. I really don’t want this to look like a self-praise write-up. These are just series of events that happened during those few months when the woman was a part of my wait at the bus-stand]