HoPes fOr a NeW bEgInNiG...

As my bus arrived at the Porur signal this morning, just like yesterday and the day before and the year before, I noticed the things that summed up a veritable Porur- markets, meat stalls, dust, drainage, flower stalls, garbage, fruit stalls, sewage, yesterday, the day before and the year before. Things never change. I can't imagine how people live there. There was an old lady selling the few flowers she had in a basket with a cloth over it. It seemed like ages since she had had a decent meal. Thin, shrivelled and wizened, her subsistence would barely suffice, I surmised. But here I was, sitting comfy in shade, worrying over the tan I'd gotten at college. I felt so insignificant and worthless. I could never bring a minute's comfort to that lady, who by all means has the rights to live in a healthy environment. What's the difference for, I wondered to myself. I hope the scent of those flowers captivates all the women crossing the signal. There was this middle aged man arranging mangoes on his cart. It was right next to the dirty and marshy areas, the ones that would consume anybody by disguist. But he has no choice, does he? That's where he earns his bread to take home to his wife and children. I'd never have lived it down if dad had raised me on that income. I hope people find his mangoes tasty. And there was this other guy sweeping the inside of a seedy building, the type that nobody would want to set foot in. But I noticed it was a narrow entrance to a larger place that probably housed many shops. I'm sure he wasn't relishing the activity, cleaning a place with the Madras sun scorching at its perennial high. I hope the dust particles just find their way to their places without his intervention. The bus took a swerve to the right, and there again I saw kids waiting at the bus stop. It was the peak hour and public transport would have to carry enormous population to different places. The kids would have to fight their way for a seat or worse, travel all the way standing. That would sap their energy, right in the morning. How were they going to concentrate on classes? They'd be tired. I'm skeptical about the kind of food they eat, if it can give them the stamina they need. I hope there are more buses for them. I never had to depend on public transport even for a day of my entire school life. And here I was, reclining comfortably in a bus that would drop me off at the place I wanted to go. I could never give them one day's comfotable journey. I felt meek. I hope they have a super metabolic rate that would never leave them tired and listless. I hope change comes, for all these people and a million others like them, for the better. I hope God answers my blog.