My world to your world

In the middle of the road.. On a busy highway.. there is a small bridge that connects my way to a shopping mall. I stay in a luxurious serviced apartment and I enjoy my days, I gym, I swim, I eat complimentary breakfast and I play pool. When I get bored, I chit chat with family on phone, read the book of faces on facebook. I watch TV lying on the couch, when I feel tired and weary of this fabtastic lifestyle I often cross that bridge to make my way to the shopping mall. I spend money to buy myself accessories that I think will accentuate my looks and sometimes I just keep roaming checking all the shops I have checked already do many times and spend time to come back home and sip in some hot coffee.

It all seemed so perfect and relaxing to me until I realized that the small bridge connected not just my way to the shopping mall, it also connected the two worlds. A world that I live in and the world in which that family lives in.

Just aside the narrow bridge every evening comes a small family, a mom two small boys and a monkey – small one too.

They don’t beg, they don’t ask, they never spread their palms. They always look hungry, weary and calm. The mother keeps sitting looking at something that isn’t visible to my eyes. The boys have this smile on their face as they play with their friend the kid monkey.

They have rags on their bodies and dust layered up as their footwear. Their tiny feet look so black, as black as the expensive khole that I smear my eyes with. Their hair are naturally honey colored, I remember getting the same color on for a huge money 2 months back.

Sometimes people will drop in a few coins and on rare lucky days some paper notes to their luck. Their expressions yet will be same, the tiny monkey with a jute string around his neck keeps dirtying itself more in the muck, the boys share their food whatever they have and how less they have with the monkey baby.

I couldn’t help and notice that the mother often looks at the mall and then at her palms. She would speak with expressions to the boys and that was this scorn in her eye that let them dare go near the racing traffic across both the sides.

I don’t understand their language, but I understand the plight. The road has been diverted to aid a new flyover construction that is coming in. Soon the divider would be paved and the bridge broken..

I wonder where would I see them then. I wonder how in this world they live, I wonder if they have those same or similar worries and tiredness that I have enjoying my ultra life. I am not sure if I can really help them with money. Would buying them clothes be a good idea? Can I look for a mediator to help me divulge in a conversation?

But in these visits across the mall, I have started giving them one item be it a chocolate, banana, apple, rice from my daily grocery. One fine evening as I stepped on the bridge I saw only the younger boy and his monkey friend. I gave him the chocolate and stood hidden from the view to see what the boy does.. he hungrily teared open the bar, carefully made three portions of it, kept two back in his pocket and shared his piece with the monkey. He looked so happy.. as happy as he had won the world.. as if he got the solitaire that I am hoping my husband would buy me soon. His eyes were shining.. his skin was glowing, in a steep contrast to the mall lights that reflected on the metal barriers and shone on his face….

I get a lesson, I appreciate life.. I have never seen myself at the crossroads of this realization… the bridge indeed connects the two worlds….