The less compassionate.

November 17, 2014

“Pay for the ticket or get down from the bus”, the ticket collector was aggressive now. “Are you going to pay?” he exclaimed at the old man who was all dressed up in his dowdy clothes, with a series of stitches on his shirt screaming out his poverty. “Sir, please… I do not have enough for the fair but I need to go to my daughter’s place. She is ill, please allow me to travel”, he pleaded his best with wet eyes. “Pay or get down”, decreed the collector.   
              “Ridiculous, why do people travel when they cannot afford to”, Arnav looked more judgmental than concerned. “Such dowdy poor people reduce the standards of our city, they should not be allowed here in the first place”, Arnav muttered loud enough for me to listen while fidgeting with his watch he bought from USA on his last trip. He took a glance at the old man again and drew into his seat, staring out of the window with no signs of compassion.
             Monday morning and we were travelling in the state bus to the city Museum for a documentation of our history project. The populated roads and the nooks, the series of little native shops at the either sides of the road with human voices of all ages screaming an invitation to visit them, the old, partially fallen buildings still holding the flag of “old city”, were all to be taken into account for the culture study project and nothing better than a ride via state bus could have been possible.
      “Ok driver, stop the bus now”, the collector made up his mind to have the man out of the bus. The old man threw a glance at the passengers but none seem to feel his plight. Arnav witnessed everything but choose to submerge himself in his IPad. “Get down”, he screamed his best, “If you don’t have the money don’t board the bus”. I swiftly got up to the conductor and drew a sum of 100 and smuggled it to him. “Let him travel, he is poor but still a human…. Show a little compassion”, I proclaimed and started walking towards my seat. The old man nodded his head in gratitude and wiped his tear off. I drew back into my seat, gazing back at the wonderful city. 

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