The old woman was seen crossing the road, with a blue colored umbrella in her left hand. The sun wasn’t being very nice either, it was ferocious, and it didn’t seem to care. The cars, buses, the heavy vehicles flooding the roads, they all gushed along and didn’t seem to care. The observant juvenile sitting at the bus stop, because he didn’t know where to wait, he at least thought he didn’t seem to care about what others might think--all the while witnessing the happenings around him.
The old woman now managed to cross the road was seen on the other side, now accompanied by her husband only as old. They awaited there standing in the hot sun. They were getting on the bus together; the bus signified the reeks of smoke and poverty, of classlessness and humility.
The beggar with one working eye sitting on the dusty roadside with a crumpled metallic cup in front of him, laid down there to seek sympathy. The beggar though had resentment in his one eye and when people walked by he didn’t seem to beg, he didn’t seem to care.
The motorcyclist just got hit by a car, now the cause of a massive jamm. A source of entertainment, a scary sight, a time for contentment, a time to feel bad for a second, a lesson to some, a time for cussing for some…but none got of their cars, it was as if they didn’t seem to care. Fellow motorcyclist reaching out in help and some were seen uneasy on the phone trying to probably reach the ambulance. The body now brought to the sidewalk and covered with pages from the newspapers. Now dead, the traffic seems to go about as usual. Death arrives in a shocking approach; Taking the soul away out of the realm of deceptions.
The juvenile shocked and saddened from what he saw. So shocked and weakened unable to be awakened.
The day turned late, a few minutes went by and there appeared the slum, play time for the poor kids out of their dirty flats; encircling the street with their cheap two wheels; dangerously—maneuvering, recklessly and daring; as if to proclaim, death don’t scare me!
It was then dawn, another group of kids seen to be on their feet, walking in a broken line, so nonchalantly; oblivious to the tragic future that awaits them… Their dirty uniforms, their passed down school bags, ragged and thorn, their malnourished features, a sight of disgust; but the smile on their faces so genuine and pure, regardless of what awaits them in the future a child rejoices every minute of light.
The juvenile than noticed a dispatch on his bike, stopping at the side to have a moment to himself, puffing on the cigarette, as if giving meaning to life. The juvenile looked into his eyes and saw; this indignant, now pride-less office boy, ordered around like a fool with strings tied to his limbs. The look of remorse, the look of rage, the look of regret, and the look of failure…the fate of his carrier already assumed in place. The crooked, the sleazy, the prosperous fuckers, dresses so well to conceal their ugly faces, obviously without a care but for themselves, unaware of the presence and of the timid transporting animal.
The juvenile stood up and shook his head, letting out a deep sigh within himself. He looked without hope, losing all will and extending his hands towards the skies, praying aloud for a cycle of change.
Unable to answer, why the old do suffer? Why the poor then hunger and the weak constantly in terror? But the selfish and greedy lives happily ever after. When ignorance and arrogance rule the world, the hopeful and faithful appear idle.
Wait, the world is but a test, Says the believer….
“To me it seems that to give happiness is a far nobler goal that to attain it: and that what we exist for is so much more a matter of relations to others than a matter of individual progress: much more of a matter of helping others to heaven than of getting there ourselves.”
Lewis Carol.
