‘others’ and their questions!

There are two kinds of people in my life,

‘Me'(Basically me and my immediate family) and ‘others’,

While Others wanted  to know about me;  I wanted to know, why do they want to know about me;

While others wanted to know my rank in the class, I again wanted to know, why they are so keen to know my rank;

While others always imposed their decisions on me, I wanted to know if there’s any difference between their suggestion and the decision that they imposed,

While others wanted to know every year which standard I was promoted to, I wanted to know whether they were so particular with their promotions too;

While others wanted to know, which carreer was I going to pursue, I wondered that they seem to be so well versed in counselling!

While others wanted to know which Job I got, I winked, they are not going to get a single penny out of it, yet why are they so much interested;

While other wanted to know which girl I was going to marry, I just wanted to know  ‘Oh! They are Experts in marriage counselling too?’

While I wanted to know when will they stop butting their nose in my life, They simply seem to know much more than me,even about my next life!!😀😀😀


The little girl


(pic courtsey : rajreflects.com via Google Images)

While waiting for my bus at the bus stop, A yellow coloured sack of a well known cement company, full till its brim which was under some motion instantly captured my attention. I focussed clearly and to my surprise, it seemed that the sack was moving forward slowly keeping a clear balance such that its contents are not overturned. I focussed some more and I could see small little legs lurching forward with every jerk on the sack.

Soon, I realised she was a little girl who was carrying the heavy sack on her back.
Probably the sack was so packed and populated with variety of contents such that the girl was almost covered up by the sack, for the one who looked from behind.

I gradually changed my position so that I could see the little girl clearly. She was a cute girl, but with rugged hands, brown hair occupied with dust , an unclean and almost broken pair of slippers adhered to her feet, her dress whose actual colour would have been white,appeared that she had crawled over mud and dirt again and again, her eyes were little, sunken deep, but filled with mixed  messages of Innocence, Helplessness, Determination, and as if they were in search for something;

Her little hands partly covered with plastic and paper litters and dust, carefully held the sack.
Probably, she was a victim of child labour. Probably, she had to earn her living by picking up rags. Probably, she had no fundamental rights to live her childhood. Probably, her lips had no right to smile.

I jogged to her, and paused her.
She was completely puzzled, a sequence of questions ran through her eyes and mind, it seemed. I took her sack and pulled it aside, and few empty untampered plastic mineral water bottles and few whiskey bottles rolled out onto the road. she hit back upon me. “We’re are paid for these rags! Why are you throwing them? Some other of my fellow mates will come and collect the same and in turn they will be paid more than we are.”

Before I could ask her anything else, she immediately collected her belongings and disappered in the crowd within fraction of seconds. I could hardly spot her.

Her one statement however, was more than sufficient an answer for any of my queries!

I kept pondering at one of the bottles that slipped of her sack, for the next twelve minute, until the honking of  bus announced its arrival.