She barely looks 18 but she has a baby; a cute one too. I see her every day on a pavement near office, live play & sleep under the shade of a tree, sharing space with a green dust bin. The low lying fence of a shop is her wardrobe; the baby’s milk bottles dry there. Hygiene is not her priority now. Alice is too English a name for her.
At times, I see Alice on top of a rusted fish cart with a man; may be it’s her beau or her husband; may be that’s her make shift home. That blue broken suitcase is probably all that she has. There may be a million reasons that brought Alice & her baby to the streets; may be the government brought down her hut on an encroached piece of land, may be she just ran away from her home or may be they just ran out of money. May be her husband was a vagabond drunkard who can’t work hard. The push cart, the suitcase & her child is her life.
Seated comfortably inside the car, protected from the dust & heat of the summer, we continue to need more. 32” lcd grows too small too soon, a 46” creeps in. Amplifiers feel lonely without floor standing speakers; faux leather no more, Scandinavian leather gets a nod! But we work hard too, we didn’t take any short cuts. This is our lives.
A priest once told me, “Mercy is unconditional; Don’t judge when someone asks help; help if you can, else just shut.” I wanted to tell him “The heart is willing , but the mind isn’t!