There is no end to my guilt trips.When I have to turn away,pretending not to see a beggar knocking on the windshield,I feel like a selfish prig.I want to help,I know it's unfair not to.But how do I know if their supposed poverty is legitimate?It is better to search out the needy personally and provide them with food or clothes,whatever they need,rather than giving money,which may or may not be misused.
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Even while driving,if and when I invariably refuse to let pedestrians cross,or to hit the breaks just long enough for other vehicles get into line before me,I feel guilty.What would I feel if I were in their position?Someone has to adjust.One can't stay blocked in an intersection or a U-turn forever.
Our roads have become carom boards.Except,people change the rules to their content,everyone is a great driver,and we don't know the players,or even the game,anymore.Just drive carefully,and hope that you,or none of your loved ones,get hit.Learning to drive has become an art in itself.Add the maniacs helming swanky bikes to the potholes,and the deal is sealed.Objectsinthe mirror are closer than they appear - including Lord Yama.
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I've been observing how the people evicted owing to the Metro Rail project on the Petta-Tripunithura strech ,cope with the loss of their homes,their livelihood.Indigenous people who have stayed on the same patch of land they were born in and stayed loyal to it all these years.I could not help but smile when I saw an old-fashioned salon still open despite the front portion of the old building already destroyed to widen the road.The owner must have asked the authorities for an extension,to keep doing what he knew best a little longer.I glanced to the left to see a rudimentary store(selling pan,cigarettes,and the like,not uncommon in these parts),which was more of a small blue cabin,manned by a lady.Adjoining the shack were the remnants of a small building complex demolished by the Metro workers,a sad reminder of what had been.
True to their nature,a group of boys played football in the small clearing behind the immediate stores lining the narrow road.I always did admire their drive to play endlessly under all conditions.
Atleast the homes farther away from the road will remain intact.Were the others allocated a different patch of land to pitch their tents?I can only hope.
- - - - - - - - - -
Even while driving,if and when I invariably refuse to let pedestrians cross,or to hit the breaks just long enough for other vehicles get into line before me,I feel guilty.What would I feel if I were in their position?Someone has to adjust.One can't stay blocked in an intersection or a U-turn forever.
Our roads have become carom boards.Except,people change the rules to their content,everyone is a great driver,and we don't know the players,or even the game,anymore.Just drive carefully,and hope that you,or none of your loved ones,get hit.Learning to drive has become an art in itself.Add the maniacs helming swanky bikes to the potholes,and the deal is sealed.Objectsinthe mirror are closer than they appear - including Lord Yama.
- - - - - - - - - - -
I've been observing how the people evicted owing to the Metro Rail project on the Petta-Tripunithura strech ,cope with the loss of their homes,their livelihood.Indigenous people who have stayed on the same patch of land they were born in and stayed loyal to it all these years.I could not help but smile when I saw an old-fashioned salon still open despite the front portion of the old building already destroyed to widen the road.The owner must have asked the authorities for an extension,to keep doing what he knew best a little longer.I glanced to the left to see a rudimentary store(selling pan,cigarettes,and the like,not uncommon in these parts),which was more of a small blue cabin,manned by a lady.Adjoining the shack were the remnants of a small building complex demolished by the Metro workers,a sad reminder of what had been.
True to their nature,a group of boys played football in the small clearing behind the immediate stores lining the narrow road.I always did admire their drive to play endlessly under all conditions.
Atleast the homes farther away from the road will remain intact.Were the others allocated a different patch of land to pitch their tents?I can only hope.
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