He's not mine

It’s 11 AM and I can still see the fear in the little boy’s eyes as he darted onto the road and back onto the pavement hoping to make a dash across the road to his school. It happened at 8 AM this morning, on one of Bangalore’s roads, a parent or school-drop service had probably dropped this child of about seven or eight on one side of the road and he needed to get across the road to his school. You must have noticed the traffic on the road has doubled this week following the re-opening of schools and colleges. The cars zipped past and the bikes zoomed ahead without stopping, why should they anyway? There is no level crossing and no official helping the children across. Besides he or she probably has a very important meeting that he or she is late for. It’s the assignment that promises to get him or her to the next level of success. So stopping to let a child pass is oh-so-unthinkable.

I saw this boy try four times before a man held his hand and tried to walk him across only to stop ahead of a speeding four wheeler. The car stopped but continued to honk; of course he or she had more significant things to do. I stopped right behind this car, and while I can write about it, I do not have the courage to walk up to the car and have a chat with the irritated driver. I can’t because I have to secure my car before I step out. Chances are by the time I have my chat and am back, I would have contributed to yet another jam because I didn’t pull-over to the side of the road. I have already been honked at because of my inability to get off the second the lights turned green, so I do not want another mark on my drive to office. Besides I have a bunch of things to accomplish before I head back home.

So this gentleman escorted this child while glaring at the car but directed at the occupant. What if that child was my own? So, what if he is not?