Solo Journey across India – Mumbai on Arrival

Coal black Ambassador airport taxi to Colaba speeding past the homeless, the derelicts, the jobless, the rejects, the outcasts of Mumbai:

Colonies of old and young men and old and young  women and all of their children bedding down for the night on flattened cardboard boxes strewn  across the pavement.

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Our taxi driver doesn’t even wince.

He’s  gripping the steering wheel with his fists clamped tight.

And staring into the distance at the ill lit road ahead.

Staring past the pulsating amber-orange flicker of streetlamps.

Past the derelicts on the street.

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Paddy is dozing off right next to me in the rear seat and mumbling something about how tired he is and how hot it feels and how much he’s craving one hell of a long cold shower the minute we arrive at the Sealord’s Guesthouse.

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Doesn’t anyone notice these people?

Doesn’t anyone care?

Why do so many people the world over just keep on going with whatever is their business in the face of other people’s suffering and misfortune?

As if other people’s misery had nothing to do with them.

Too many people are just plain callous and don’t care at all as long as they themselves feel alright.

Or so they think. 

Because since they don’t care they can’t be alright.

Cold fish. Unfeeling. Insensitive to other people’s pain.

Yet their lack of empathy mars them and makes them suffer the most!

For the person who does not give or help or at least just care is one plain miserable cur.

People are happiest when they give as much as they can give.

Wretched are those who do not give.

They end up suffering all the more for not having given.

Copyright(c) David Bugeja 2016 All rights reserved

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