I hate to work on Sundays. But the assignment was wrapped on an invitation to visit the freshly renovated, one and only, authentic seafood restaurant in Chembur.
We set on a bike on a lovely Sunday traffic, meandering on the highway and criss-crossing the suburbs on to the central and were on the last lap when a fellow bike rider pointed towards the rear tyre.
By the time we realized it, the bike groaned loudly with the added pressure of the deflated tyre.
We walked the rest of the few blocks and were waited upon till the owner arrived. A round of seafood entrees followed by the main course including a very unique bhatkal biryani and finally some caramel pudding ended a sumptuous Sunday afternoon.
The owner dropped us to the bike and guided us to the nearest mechanic.
Temples are a very lucrative site for beggars. We dragged the bike to the parking lot and a street urchin raced towards us wanting to lead us to the mechanic. Before we could decide, he was already off and my friend followed him hastily.
I decided to stand beside the deserted bike and wait.
My eyes travelled and began studying the beggars. It seemed to be lunchtime for almost all of them were scavenging the leftovers and hungrily devouring what seemed edible. A bearded guy with a band securing his long hair, strong limbed but the glazed vacant eyes displayed his dependent helplessness.
An old woman next to him, almost in her late seventies, waiting for time to run out on her.
My eyes rested on the adolescent curled in pain trying to sleep, with flies swarming around her. She was so ill that she had no control. There was a pool of fresh urine and I could look no further.
I looked at the couple of women preparing a fresh round of tobacco to insert into their respective mouths. One of them looked at me enquiringly and I looked away. She turned towards the rickshawwala who had been eyeing her for a while and asked him if she could come with him. The rickshawwala hid himself in the newspaper that he hurriedly pulled out from under the seat.
I looked at the kid again and realized that she needed some urgent treatment. I checked at my wallet and it didn’t look any good. I was contemplating further action when the toddler walked. Hardly three years old, he went through the leftovers, pulling out some goodies. He playfully puched and pummeled a couple of other kids and was running around merrily when his eyes fell on the sick girl. He rummaged through his belongings and pulled out a rag. He carefully laid it on the pool of urine. He searched again through his belongings and pulled out an oversized shirt and spread it around the crumpled figure. His deed done, he ran to punch and push the other kids again and disappeared from my view.
I looked at the sick girl again and saw her body relaxing especially because the flies couldn’t touch her anymore. Within a few minutes, she was peacefully asleep.
The mechanic arrived with the mended tyre and before clambering up to the pillion seat; I had a last look at the kid and knew that she would live…
Live for another day.
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