Age of Innocence

Lost (as always) by the window seat on the bus ride to office, I felt a little tug on my shoulder. Kids!! There's always those days when a screeching child is being fiddled over by the mother who is making a more sincere effort towards making it all look very appealing to the irritated fellow passengers than calming the apple of her eye. My flow of anguish was met by a pair of solemn eyes next to me belonging to a little girl no more than six years of age who muttered a very quiet 'Sorry' under her breath as she looked away.

Her mother seemed unwell and had taken the only remaining vacant seat in the bus and her father stood protectively beside her. The little girl looked tired but knew better than asking for some space to sit down next to her mother. She had found a little space to squeeze into between her mother's knees and was trying very hard not to express her discomfit. It was not hard to see that she had learnt to adjust her requirements to the needs of those around her, even before she learnt to understand the meaning of having her own space.

I don't think my act of pulling her away from that uncomfortable position would have gone unnoticed by her parents if the bus hadn't suddenly jolted to a stop at a red light. Of course, the little girl felt it. Her eyes didn't have much solemnity in them anymore, a pair of highly arched eyebrows over eyes demanding an explanation blocked my gesture. I relaxed my grasp and asked her to come and sit with me. She reluctantly agreed. Unlike the kind of children I am used to dealing with in the bus, she seemed more concerned about not being trouble to me than relaxing in whatever space she had been offered. Even in that single seat that we shared, she tried very hard to avoid any contact with me. With one outstretched arm, she clung on to the back of the seat in front of her, with the other she guarded herself from me and added an occasional watchful glance in my direction to emphasise her intention. It was very hard not to laugh at the irony. Having spent the past ten years in this city doing the same with men (read hungry hounds) around me, I felt deeply violated. So, I bent towards her and said that it would make me very happy if she would sit on my lap instead. It took a little time but eventually she gave me a hint of a smile and agreed.

Once I had placed her comfortably in my lap and the two of us settled into staring outside the partly open window of the bus, I wondered yet again about what makes me feel so angry of fellow human beings of all shapes and sizes and more importantly, what kind of a world have we created for ourselves.

The chain of thought was lost as I felt her scrambling off my lap and after her mother. Her father was shouting at the driver to stop for a little longer at the bus stop. As I waited to spot her outside, I hoped that she would look back and smile, I knew that she felt the friendship between us. Finally, she emerged from the gate.. disheveled and bothered by the ruckus and her father's incessant shouting at the driver and instantly reached out for a heavy-looking bag next to her mother. The driver shut the door and the bus started to pull away. I was still waiting for the smile. She picked up the bag with visible effort and trudged off after her parents with no particular emotion on her face. I silently prayed that she finds a place to rest soon and food to keep her going.

Everyone of us has a purpose to serve when we are alive, I wonder how long it would take for the little girl in a red dress to redeem herself and find a reason to smile. I wish I could have been some respite to her already weary soul.