Refuge me!

After an exhaustive day at school (St. Francis) deciding if I should take French or German for my second language, and practicing school dance at Shivani’s home and with an almost empty wallet, I was waiting for my bus ‘1A’ to get home from Secundrabad. This was pre-kinetic days.

The bus stop was full of college crowd, since all my friends left already, I was looking at the bustling street ahead of me, longing for the bus to come. Then in the scorching heat I felt a chill, an icy slice of something clutching my feet slowly….

I let out a small cry and pounced in fear and looked down to see what could it possibly be. What I saw is a little girl, in grime, scruffy hair and torn clothes, must be 10 or 12 years old. She just looked at me with her palms wide open, I have never felt a persons hunger in such an up-close manner. Her icy hands were passing the tide of her state to me and I couldn’t understand the drain of energy. I gave her whatever I had in my wallet and hailed for an auto in a rush and started home. All through the ride, the thought of the chill fingers were giving me the frights.

I’ve heard people talk about poverty and I’ve seen poverty very close too. But feeling it on my skin was just very threatening to all that we build around in our safety net.

As I was splashing water on my face at home, the mirror looked back at me with a superficial emptiness of our lives and the powerlessness of the poor soul in me. A small part of me died in those little girl’s cold hands.