First,
when I had seen one boy lying with amputated leg in the center of a crossing
bridge (I remembered the scene of “Slumdog Millionaire” when children were
deliberately made blind and deprived of their hands and leg so that they could
look more vulnerable for begging) and yes he was begging. It was the look, the
way he had seen me as if he was crying for help and he was suffering, I couldn’t
help him. I wanted to cry perhaps there were few drops in my eyes. I was angry
with people who force these children for begging. I was angry with people who
were passing that child with apathy as if they are used to of this kind of
scene. I was angry with poverty and hunger. I was angry with myself who is
waiting to be grown up when he will be able to help these children.
Second, when I saw
this picture (Taken today during the protest against the gang rape at India
Gate):
I cried because I was not hopeful that even this barbarism can inspire
people to stand up for these protesters. I cried on my helplessness on how we
will again forget all these atrocities, how we will be again fooled by media
and government, how we will again fear if someone will try to change the
system, how we will again question the credibility and honesty of the person
who will try to stand up for others and how we will again vote for same
government or same type of people on the basis of caste and religion without
worrying about their characters and intentions.
And
last, when I heard the news of Sachin’s retirement, suddenly it seemed that
everyone is getting old including me. May be It was fear of future of what i
would do when i would have to call a day. From the day I remember myself Sachin
was part of my memory. I don’t know how much he inspired me but somehow I
can relate him with each and every memory of mine. And now he and all my
memories will be referred as a past era.
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