The Little Girl in the Rain
It
was a rainy morning. For me there is
nothing better than to hope for a rain.
In Ahmedabad anything that hides the sun is always welcome. It was a relief from the heat. I was on my way to the highway where the
university bus would stop for the employees and the students.
There were a few huts on one side of the road.
The first one in the line almost touched the road. The rain was not harsh, but still it was
doing justice to the monsoon season. The
street was almost empty though it was 8 a.m.
Each
house seemed like an introvert.
They
held back their thoughts.
It
was peaceful.
The
road was full of gutters and I had to be cautious at each my step. I also had to be careful about the vehicles
that occasionally passed by. They could
shower you with muddy water.
It
was then I saw a little girl squatting on the tar road. She was facing opposite to me. I could see utensils around her. The door of her house was closed. No one was
around.
I passed her by, and I looked back.
She
was just seven or eight years old. I
suddenly had an urge to capture that image.
I had recently bought a camera.
But it was at home. If I went
back I could miss both my bus and the girl in the rain. My mobile had an inbuilt camera. I was about to take out my mobile but then I couldn't.
I
stood there still.
She
didn’t even look at me.
She
was lost in some thoughts, and was mechanically doing the dishes. The rain drops that fell on her head were
rolling down her face.
She
wasn’t crying. But indeed the childhood
in her was crying.
Was
she imagining the utensils as toys? Was she enjoying the rain?
I
couldn’t see any spark of joy in her eyes.
Her bending figure was a silent request to let her back to the warmth of
home.
It
would be possible to capture a seven year old girl who was washing the
utensils, but it was impossible to capture the stillness I saw on her face. The cloudy sky above, the muddy earth below,
the sad music of the rain and the little girl and myself couldn’t be caught in
a still frame.
I
captured her image in my mind, and turned and walked away so that I wouldn’t
miss the bus.
As
long as that little girl was in the rain, I knew, my country would be fine and
prosperous. Things should remain the same. Humanity, I thought, at least in my country is subjected to vasectomy; thus no possibility of the girl entering back home; no possibility of a revolution that would right the wrong.
I
was to take a class on Ethics and Values for engineering students that very
morning. In the class I asked them to
come up with an ethical issue that bothered them. When they were searching for one I narrowed
down the range and asked them specifically about an ethical issue that they
came across in the very campus they study.
One student came up with the issue: ‘prohibition of the use of mobile
phones in the class room’.
I couldn't wait. I asked them about a girl
of 12 or 13 who works as a sweeper in the university canteen. All of them must have seen her there. Is her being there an ethical issue?
Where
is she supposed to be? I asked.
In
school.
The
soft answer came from a student who was sitting in the front row. I could see a change of expression on everyone’s face. Obviously they have
never thought of that girl being in the canteen sweeping and cleaning as an
ethical issue.
Yes,
it is an ethical issue. Their silence agreed with me.
Before
moving to the moral philosophy of Immanuel Kant I wondered what that little
girl in the rain might be doing at that moment.
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