Cross-roads and a story

                   In India, every red light at traffic signals is a green signal for those small petty (size and quality) toy or cloth-sellers, unfortunately the toy or the cloth is not their selling point but the poverty.  Similarly it gives ample time for those unfortunate souls, circumstantially or physically or morally (those who are not ready to work hard).   A child, a bandage soaked in blood and eyes anxious to see something coming out of the Indian Mint, are a common sight in India. There is always a discussion or a concern whether to show or show off one’s magnanimity. This reminds me of a story by a tamil playwright Mr. Sujatha. The story was narrated in first person. 

          Mr. Sujatha and his wife are indulged in their afternoon general banter. Their mundane conversation is muddled by a man, in his mid-thirties and soiled dhoti. His eyes starts welling. And he tells that his wife died this morning and he wants to give her a good farewell at the least as he was not able to provide a good life. Sujatha turns a blind-eye and ask him to leave the place. He starts crying and tries with earnest, but to no avail. Mrs. Sujatha is moved by this incident and tries to cajole her husband into giving something to this poor guy.  The stranger leaves the place with wet eyes.

          Mrs. Sujatha is shocked to see her husband’s behavior. She asks him whether his actions were right. Sujatha, in his usual thoughtful heavy tone, explains that there are thousands of hawkers on the street who try to exploit the vulnerability or the emotional sensitivity of the people. He declares that this stranger has to be one such guy. He needs money and most of them are shameless to kill their father, mother, wife or children, even when alive and are ready to earn something without hard work. He tells that she should not be fooled by such tricks.

         After some time, Mr. Sujatha takes his scooter for his usual evening ride. On his way through a narrow street,  he sees this stranger, whom he met in the morning, crying loud and hard. He sees a Khafan (white cloth) covered body nearby. He is jolted. He goes into a pensive mood and tries to find a reason for his actions in the afternoon.

          He returns to his home. Mrs. Sujatha, still sitting on the veranda, tells that the wail of the stranger has affected her for some unknown reasons and she is feeling sorry for that guy. Mr. Sujatha, after letting a sigh, tells his wife that she is still innocent and ignorant about this world and walks fast into the house.

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