On ordinary people, ordinary incidents but wierd thoughts

Yesterday, Sakthi and I went to eat at the Shipra Mall in Indirapuram. After finishing our dinner at around 9.30, when we stepped out of the mall, the car park area was freshly washed with a drizzle so welcome in this relentless summer heat. Sakthi had decided to go by rickshaw and not by bike or car but now we had to go back in what threatened to be rains. After a couple of rickshaw fellows declined, one guy agreed and asked for Rs. 30. Considering we paid Rs. 15 onward, this was nightime robbery! But, it was raining and Sakthi quickly agreed for Rs. 25. It always amazes me - this transaction of money, how do you fix a value on somebody's manual labour?

Anyway, off we went. The wind was really angry and throwing things our way. We had to close our eyes to protect them from the dirt getting in. The rickshaw had a makeshift cover for the passengers - with cut cardboard. The poor rickshawman didn't have even this. He was struggling to pull our weights against the wind. The dirt and grime forced us to keep our mouths shut - well, not really. I can never shut up.

I asked him, "Bhaiyya, is this your last sawari (ride)? Will you go home after this?"
He said, "Yes, I am done. I have been pulling this rickshaw since 8 AM."
"So, how much money do you make everyday?"
"Depends. Some days 250 bucks, some days 300."
I do a quick calculation (and very stupidly so). Not bad, if this guy worked every day of the month, he would make atleast 8K every month. Not an insignificant amount.

The wind started getting harder. He was finding it difficult to pedal on. He got down and tried pushing by hand. I shut my mouth briefly and told him, "You are panting already, I will shut up and not ask any more questions."

And, just within a minute or so, the wind was relenting a little and got softer. I couldn't shut up for too long. "Where do you live? How far do you have to go after dropping us?" I was worried if the poor man would have to go a long way and get soaked in the rain too.
"Nearby only. Shakti Khand. About 10 minutes distance." I was a little relieved for him.

We were closer to our home by then - it was only a 5-7 minute ride. "Bhaiyya, do you have kids?" In between huffing and panting, he said, "Yes. Two. One 6 year old and another 1 year old."
I asked my standard question to anybody from a lower economic group. "Do they go to school?"
"No, I don't have the money." I was very angry. "A six year old and not going to school? There are government schools with free education you know?" This was outrageous. How can he spoil his child's future like this? I mean, with 8K, can't you send a child to a free school? Yeah, yeah, I know it is stupid, but that's how I felt.

I got no answer. We reached home. Sakthi pulled out his wallet and gave him Rs. 40, much much more than a standard fare. We are like that - we keep giving extra money when somebody talks about children, having to educate them and the way we see it, the money is too small for us to even worry about it.

While walking to the complex and then on the lift, I started thinking. What is it that makes me ask these stupid questions to strangers? Especially the poor people? Is it sympathy? Or genuine caring? Or is it my status as an upwardly mobile woman who thinks she can get away with asking these questions of people less fortunate than myself? Am I inadvertently stripping them of their dignity, invading their private world? Or, by asking, am I able to understand or get a glimpse of a life that I hopefully, will never have to endure? Why this incredible curiousity about what seems to be ordinary lives?

Would I ask my own circle of friends what they make? Would they care to tell and if they do, how genuine would it be? Would I be judgemental about how they bring up their children? Will I be forgiving just because they send their kids to schools, buy an entire mall full of goodies and indulge their every whim and fancy? With their basic needs presumably taken care of, will I think of the emotional well being of these more privileged kids and question the parents on that?

Finally, I told myself this. Whatever it may be, every time I meet such people, it puts my own life is perspective. I don't feel guilty about having thrown away my corporate career (What career? That's another matter altogether!) and fancy salary. I am still living well. I don't feel jealous about the CEO varieties in my circle of friends, don't miss not having diamonds and pearls, having huge wardrobes full of clothes. I don't live in the hungry African hinterland or in the war torn corners of the world. Believe me, I am so bloody glad I am not a woman living in Swat.

I am happy to have Sakthi with me - he indulges my love for food, books, music and travel (once in a while, to be honest). I don't have to worry about anything. I can sit in the cool confines of my home, TV in the background, laptop in front of me and pound away my boredom. When I go back to Chennai, I will try to ease any traces of self-guilt by working in the Cancer Hospital. I don't believe in God but I am grateful to Sakthi. Glad to have you in my life, dear! :-)