The red light

As I drove home from office, on the same routine road, I saw almost everything I see each day: the heavy traffic which was inching its way like a row of ants trying to rush after a tough day, each vehicle trying to find out its way through a whole new set of potholes and collegians in total oblivion of the stressful day that other people had been through. At every red traffic light, I met the usual bunch of road side sellers, each selling their usual stuff like the mid day newspaper...huh! its 8:30 at night, femina magazine....you get one free with the same magazine (I wonder if every person has started a saloon or a beauty parlour to buy them :)), the baloons and the gajra which spreads a fresh fragrance in my car for a moment and also reminds me of those days when i had long hair and the gajra was special to me...(gone are those days).

This view albeit a routine, never fails to bring me out of the long hours of work and slowly pushes me into other nice thoughts like whats cooking for dinner....and that very moment my thought is interrupted by a knock on my car window pane.

I hate it. I hate to go through that scene. I close my eyes wishing the light turns green. Standing out there is a little girl with a begging bowl in her hand. Her head barely reaches the window and she is knocking on the glass with the bowl trying to catch my attention. One rupee please, I'm hungry.....she signals. I turn my head in the other direction to find a near naked boy wiping my neighbouring car. The entire bunch of begging kids have got into action to make the most of those few minutes, which the red light has given them. Some seem to have mastered the art repeating all the lines perfectly taught by God knows whom. Some are standing there with a lethargic look begging to say 'please end my ordeal...I'm sick of standing here'.

My heart reaches out to that kid but all I do is sit in my car with a dilemma of whether or not to give them their much coveted rupee. Some say its a huge network of people and giving them that one rupee is like giving a helping hand to those involved in such gruesome activities.

Heat, cold or rains... nothing stops them. No idea where they come from, no idea if the elderly people at the road side are their caretakers, no idea if they even manage to get enough to feed themselves a decent meal. The sufferers are the many kids who just like that beautiful innocent girl do not know why they were born to lead such a life.

Today she begs. No idea what her future has in store for her. The light turns green and I drive back to the comforts of my home. Dinner is ready.