A rainy day more than 25 years ago. I was 6, my brother was about a year old then (intellectually, I would argue that he is about the same even now, but that's another story). The monsoon clouds were at it with gusto. Not the type of half-hearted effort made by clouds in England either. The monsoon drowns out everything, including your thoughts. For me, monsoon is a word that always triggers memories of sound and smell and touch more than sight. But there is one sight that comes up in my memory from the past that still haunts me when I think about the monsoons...
... A six year old me sitting in the back seat of my father's car, my parents in front, my brother sleeping, swaddled in a warm blanket on my mother's shoulder. I am engrossed in the strange music of raindrops on the metal roof and the repetitive frantic squeaking of the windshield wipers as they vainly try to keep up with the water splashing all around. I close my eyes and imagine I am underwater, in a submarine (my dad had taken me to see 20,000 leagues under the sea) and I am hiding from the monstrous squid in the safety of my submarine/car. I have an open biscuit packet in my lap (which will not be a surprise to those who know me) and I am deep in my role, when my father asks me to keep a look out behind the car as he reverses into a side street.
Everything changes - it only takes an instant, that's what is so strange about life.
I look around, the side street is empty, except for a boy a few feet behind our car. He looks about 3 or 4, he is drenched so bad that I worry his skin and flesh might wash away any minute in the force of the rain. A dark, thin little boy, in tattered clothes and an expression I cannot describe on his face. Suddenly I am scared to look at him, I desperately try to avoid his gaze, but it is too late. He looks at me and raises his hand to his mouth, a helpless and hopeless mime of hunger.
My heart races, I have never been so scared in my life. I don't know what to do. So I just keep quiet. My father, who has not seen any of this, shifts gears and drives off. I feel compelled to look one last time - and there he is, in the middle of the road, frozen in time, frozen in the rain, his tiny hand still raised to his mouth.
As we drive off, I rummage around in my brain for a 'safe' thought. I desperately want to think about Captain Nemo and my submarine. But all that fills my mind is the little boy.
What scared me was not the thought that it could be me (I don't think I was capable of such profound thought at that age) - what really scared me was that through the rain his face seemed to blur for a moment and it seemed as if my little brother was looking at me, cold and tiny and hungry and frail.
That was the first time I was introduced to poverty, the arrogant, cruel, greedy slavemaster. Since then I have passed him on the street many times, but always managed to escape without acknowledging his presence - and he seemed to let me get away with it. He seemed happy just trampling on the vast army of slaves already under his whip. I have never done anything that would count as charitable (you cannot count the direct debit from your account as anything more than a guilt response - it is not 'charity'). Of course as a doctor, you help in making minor improvements to people's lives. But then, you are compensated well for your effort. I used to dream of doing something really useful, for people who have nothing. Unfortunately, your own selfish thoughts get in the way:
What about my career? my financial stability? my independence after 24 years of living in my parents' house (not that they would mind)? I want to chase my dreams, build my empire and tick all the right boxes. That doesn't leave time for charity, surely.
Like a broken record, repetitive explanatory thoughts play in my mind: 'I will certainly give something of me to people who have nothing, but... but, let me build my life first, because...
...I need security before I can afford charity
...I need qualifications before I can offer my services
...I need experience to build expertise
...I need to complete my training
...I need to beef up my CV
...I need to think of a family
...I need to tick all the boxes
and before I know it, charity and sacrifice have been drowned in my 'needs'. One day, one day soon, I am sure I will help someone less fortunate ... but it seems, I am helping myself before I do that and I don't know when I will be satisfied.
No comments:
Post a Comment