So yesterday was hopefully my last night working late at the office, although I kinda liked those midnight cab rides through shockingly empty Bombay streets.
There's this one guy who was in my cab every night. He's handicapped, and I've seen him in one of those claustrophobic cubicles. He would be assisted out of of the car by the driver every night, lean heavily on his crutch while trying to keep the door open, turn around and gruffly say good night to the other passengers.
I was watching him yesterday, and suddenly felt sorry for him, sitting alone in his cubicle, hobbling alone down the lane that ends in a row of dilapidated buildings. I wondered if he would be greeted warmly by his children at home, and whether any woman had been attracted enough to him to bear him children.
But who was I to feel pity? A person can be perfectly healthy, have a swankier cubicle and a lot of friends and I'd still be unsure if he'd get a hug at home.
These are lonely lives, and every small display of affection counts!
There's this one guy who was in my cab every night. He's handicapped, and I've seen him in one of those claustrophobic cubicles. He would be assisted out of of the car by the driver every night, lean heavily on his crutch while trying to keep the door open, turn around and gruffly say good night to the other passengers.
I was watching him yesterday, and suddenly felt sorry for him, sitting alone in his cubicle, hobbling alone down the lane that ends in a row of dilapidated buildings. I wondered if he would be greeted warmly by his children at home, and whether any woman had been attracted enough to him to bear him children.
But who was I to feel pity? A person can be perfectly healthy, have a swankier cubicle and a lot of friends and I'd still be unsure if he'd get a hug at home.
These are lonely lives, and every small display of affection counts!
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