Every time I received the “Thank You” message from an e-commerce site my brain filled my heart with guilt for buying discounts instead of anything that was actually required.
“I could have bought lavish lunches for my family with this money for the next ten days and paid the electricity bills too.”
These thoughts made me feel unholy and almost sinful until I came by the news of some saint or sage or priest being charged for something far more unholy and sinful (these days such news items are very common). So I pick myself up and carry on till the next “unbelievable offer” notification on my phone.
Offers of discount always do trick. See, I wanted to grab your attention and I have it. Now it is time to move on to the real thing that I want to share and it has got nothing to do with discounts or offers or my weakness for them. In the last few days I met three people. Three people who got me into some real thinking. I just wanted to share my share experience with them.
The Rickshaw Puller
I generally enjoy an open rickshaw ride to work on good weather days. Cloudy days on which the cool breeze brushes against my face and hair to create a tingling sensation during a bumpy ride is my favourite. These autumn days were offering me just that goodness and that day my ride was exactly how I liked it. A rickety rickshaw like that, which could break down just anywhere, was like icing on the cake. I felt so good that I decided to tip the rickshaw puller an extra one third of the fare. The idea of the tip got me even more elated. I was having a good day and I was just about to make someone’s as good as mine. On reaching work I handed over the fare along with the feel good tip that I wanted to give. The rickshaw puller took the money, counted it and twisted his face into an agitated scowl. Then he screamed.
“Just Rs 30/-? I meandered my way through the crowded street pedalling all the way.”
My happy feeling just committed suicide somewhere inside me.
“But I have already given you more than the fare itself.” I tried to retort without much success. He screamed and shouted till I conceded to his demands and handed over somewhere close to double the amount I was going to tip.
The Old Lady Outside
One day while I was rushing to work I saw a brittle, wrinkled but graceful old lady. She must have been in her sixties and seemed to be searching the area. Her movements were elegant in spite of the tension that showed through her furrowed brows. I saw the jolly newspaper guy sorting out his newspapers for the day while keeping an eye on the lady and wondered how could he be so indifferent. I should stop by to help the good old lady at least, I thought.
“Madam, have you lost something? May I help you find it?” I asked.
“It’s no use. I have searched everywhere for the five hundred note that slipped out of my purse. Now I don’t have money to go home.” She replied in a worried tone.
Moved by her condition I decided to help her by providing her her fare to reach home. So I asked how much money would be required to safely take her home.
“Around a hundred. I live far you see.” She mumbled.
Before I could do or say anything the newspaper boy who was sorting the newspapers came to us looked at her in the eye and spoke sternly, “Madam, since morning I have been noticing you. You have so far collected more than you claim to have lost.”
The Beggar Kid
Maybe this time it was just my mind playing games with me. The suspicious part of me might have grown roots all over my nicer side and was responsible for my feelings towards the ragged little girl in distress.
I was galloping towards the metro station clearing my way through the crowd and cursing the crowd and my absent colleague. I was so lost in trying to make way for myself that I could barely feel someone slipping a chit inside my half closed fist until my whole wrist itself was shook vigorously. I stopped and looked down at the culprit. A small girl dressed in dirty torn clothes who must never have combed her otherwise thick straight hair, which was also very dirty, looked back at me. I was still looking at her surprised when she pointed at the small piece of paper that she had slipped into my hand. I looked down at the chit. It was typed neatly and was the only clean thing about her.
“I am eleven years old and I have a brother who is five years old. We have been turned out by our drunkard father and are homeless. Your kindness will help us sustain our hope and life.”
I looked up at her, then at the chit and finally handed over a ten rupees note without much thought. The girl took it and disappeared in the crowd. I felt very uneasy that night.
“Did I help a little girl buy food or did I just encourage her traffickers.”
