Issued in public interest

I ignore beggars. I look away from them, not wanting to see my inexplicable guilt reflected in their eyes. Why should I feel guilty? It is not my fault that they are penniless! There was nothing I could have done in my past life that would have prevented them from stalking me! If I happen to eat a veg burger while they lust after clean water to drink, it is only because I happen to have been born in a well-to-do family purely by chance. There was nothing I could have done.

I also desist from giving them money. Inspite of my talking about chance and luck in a favorable fashion, I have this ridiculous notion that they need to earn their food! Why can't I just accept it as pure luck that they ask me for money when I happen to have it?

She was standing on the other side of the low fence that seperated the swanky coffee shop from the filth that populated the all-too-real sidewalk. My masala omelet was almost over save for a sorry-looking piece that I had left because it had gone cold. We were talking about going to a movie. All of us were aware of her presence - her torn saree, her brownish-red hair, the battered aluminum plate, and the heavily patched bag. I was extremely thankful that the breeze was blowing in the other direction and her stink did not carry. We continued ignoring the world on the other side of the fence.

"Hey! Chocolate! Chocolate beku!" she asked authoritatively. She was pointing at the last bit of the omelet. Either she was new to begging or she was slightly touched in the head. Her furtive glances and her changing facial expressions seemed to suggest the latter. I went through the usual feelings - the first being fear. Raw fear. She could easily reach over the fence and grab at my neck. She could try and hit me in the head for being richer. And then fear gave way to revulsion. Actually, fear and revulsion battled each other before irritation took over. I just wanted to see her go. I gave her that last piece without looking at her. She was meticulous in emptying the bare plate off even the onion pieces.

"Powder!" she said, gesturing at the sugar packet. We, at the table, glanced at each other. Omelet with sugar? What the hell! We handed over that too. She quickly got down to her unusual dinner of cold omelet with sugar to taste.

I was slightly disturbed. That was her dinner? I knew beggars went hungry for days. But somehow, the fact that there were beggars who were ready to eat a ridiculously small piece of omelet with sugar troubled me more. Before leaving the place, I handed over the cup of iced tea that was half empty. She accepted that with a I-deserve-that-tea-anyway kind of a look.

We did go to the movie that we had planned. 4 hours of pure stupidity. 250 bucks worth absurdity that went down well with popcorn and Pepsi. But in the movie hall, there was a poster that grabbed my attention.

Everyone's talking about it! But no one is doing anything about it!

PREVENT GLOBAL WARMING! ACT NOW!