Railway-station drive : my tryst with sitch
“The deeper you get into questions, the deeper or more interesting they get.”
I recently came across this quote and felt respite in knowing, there are more of my species who do believe so. A little more pondering on the topic made me realise, that all this while it was staring me right in the face and yet I failed to notice it in the naïveté of this world. Isn’t that how all the art,philosophy and philanthropy in this world came about after all? From the depths of emotions and the vast web of questions they spawn. Emotions - the profound wave arising from poverty, a poverty that begets the monsters of hunger and crime.
The satire of this reality has been inspiring many a mavens for millennia, I am but a Pygmy. “Imagine what it is like to be in their shoes.” Is the most classic example of ‘easier said than done’. Not in our darkest dreams would we ever be able to “imagine” how forlorn a life of despair and destitute is. As an army-child I have spent most of my childhood traveling, and train stations were an integral part of life lessons. Playing ‘how-will-you-survive-if-you-got-lost-on-station’ was a favourite game in childhood.
The reality of hunger , poverty, greed and distress on stations makes one feel insecure and vulnerable. Fear condemns us to mediocrity and we choose to focus on the security, comfort and shelter of our homes. For the longest time a station drive made me apprehensive, thus.
Yet, nothing could echo the ardour I felt while serving the hungry on the station today. Although I was familiar with the ilk, nothing could have prepared me for the plethora of class I witnessed today, sweeper women, labourers, gypsy women with their babies, relatives of the hospitalised, youth and elder alike.
The astounding enormity of the despair hit me when I overheard a man tell his mate that the idli we were serving was 30 rupee per plate. The gut wrenching truth here is that people below poverty line earn only as much as 170 rupees a day in cities.
A few men even felt subverted by the idea of asking for some food although it was free, mistaking their own attempt to be akin to begging; which of course their capable, sincere-self despised to the core. When we offered food ourselves, grateful were those hands and moist the eyes which accepted it. The gratitude was obvious under the timid exterior of acceptance. Oh! how I wish they wouldn’t accept this fate. How much I wish, each Indian realises his worth and finds in herself the courage to stand against the societal and psychological barriers dragging her down. Fate can change and destinies can be made, if one just believes that they are a powerhouse of infinite potential. The battle is long and path is strewn with devil’s advocates. It’s in the job description of a Human to fight them and move ahead. I am fighting too, everyday. I as a lobsterback of the Robin Hood Army, am positive, my India will be without hunger and poverty and it will be soon!
