A joggers park is being made here, he says eagerly. This is a quiet place, the kids can play without fear. There is no traffic although the town center is not far away. Posh, he declares. And only good people seem to live here, he says with some authority. The buildings are nice and I say I'd be interested if his agent friend can show us some places. Oh yes, he says and we drive towards my son's school where I have to pick him up in fifteen minutes. A joggers park, I think. That sounds like fun. And the river flows in front of the property. So no construction will ever block the view from these buildings. Not bad, I think, not bad at all. Might even be worth considering.
At the traffic light, we wait for a green. A beautiful mother sits on the side of the street. Her two sons are about as old as mine. She kisses the baby and holds him high up in the air. A blonde woman walks by carrying a soda or some drink, occasionally sipping on it distractedly. She looks at the woman and kids, hands her soda to the mother who takes it with one hand and with the other continues playing with her infant who giggles with abandon.
As my car leaves, I see the older child, not much younger than my older son sipping the drink. The blonde woman walks away. She is fervently searching for something. She has forgotten the young family, her drink, the baby, the boy. The beautiful mother. I want to stop, talk to the mother but I don't. The signal changes. The car moves away.
I should have stopped. I should have said something.
Instead I take out my phone and make the call I have "not had a chance" to make all these weeks to the organization I have been meaning to speak to. Women's and children's literacy is their focus.
I make plans to see them in a few hours.
I have to do something NOW or else a part of me will just wilt away seeing such sights.
Or worse, I might get used to seeing them and God forbid, I just might even not feel like crying at the sight of them. And that would never do.
1 comment:
Many cry, but few wipe away tears that are not their own. You are very inspirational, Ranjini -- never change!
K
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