roses

small expressions change your life in great many ways. though it may not relate to you, a mere observation of it changes your perception. this happened to me when i was in my teens. a typical boy growing up. a typical house with parents and a brother. a house that needed cleaning. a house with a maid for cleaning the utensils ( mom had way too much on her hands). now as with maids, we had a period where we had to shuffle a bit. and one of those shuffles, i felt something. i could quantify the feeling then and thankfully despite what i have become (not much), i still can quantify it. i am sure, that it if nothing else, it is going to give me the touch that makes us human. we need that feeling sometimes. something that makes you human.

anyway, during one of those shuffles, in came 2 girls, barely at the age of 4 or 5. when they first walked in, i was dumbstruck. i couldn't even fathom the thought of them cleaning the utensils. cleaning for fun is different from cleaning out of compulsion. so unbearable was the thought, that i walked out of the house. mom, who was/is very kind, gave them biscuits and something to drink every time. she confessed that even she felt sad for them, but the work gives them the money they badly need. i still can remember their tiny little hands with a rag cloth cleaning the utensils. it was such a tragic image. their eyes were so innocent. they should be having roses than rag clothes in their hands.

i guess i am thankful for that, in a way. i do my best to support such unfortunate folks, but whatever i do, in a way feels incomplete. the only consolation is that a step forward, is a step towards progress. one of my aims after have a stable life is to setup an ngo for education, especially for girls and the under privilege kids. its their only chance out the rag clothes. so join me won't you, to free these kids from the shackles bound by fate.

cheers,


p.s. : (unrelated but powerful) opening lines from crash:

Graham: It's the sense of touch. In any real city, you walk, you know? You brush past people, people bump into you. In L.A., nobody touches you. We're always behind this metal and glass. I think we miss that touch so much, that we crash into each other, just so we can feel something.