I Thought

He followed me. In the quick steps that his nine year old feet could manage. But he kept up, I ignored. He spoke till his point run through- "paisa mat dena didi, khana khareedke de do please." He had me right then, but I kept walking anyway. Not wanting to fall pray. Not wanting to turn back to buy him food. Not knowing, if it was safe.

I turned to look at him after a few minutes because he coughed like a litle child; and on his nine year old little arms, sat a little girl with a running nose. I looked away. I pretended to walk toward a coffee shop, but he yelled out anyway, desperately, telling me not to give him money, but to buy him food. He started to bargain with me, and said a packet of biscuits would do. And I choked. While what may well have been his little sister coughed an unforgiving cough, I simply choked on my own tears warring inside to be let out.

And so I thought. I thought of my own complexities. I thought of the drama; all of it that bides in me.  I thought of the hurt and all the blame that I have tucked into overt oblivion but at only an arm's length away in case I ever have to unearth that little closet.

I thought of my choices; my rights and my wrongs. And the many wrongs I know are about to be made.

I thought of it all and some more. Faced by a little boy begging me for some food, I thought of it all. Through his desperate eyes that I hoped not to trust, I didn't think of the responsibilities. I didn't think of the government. I didn't think of all the undone goods.

I thought. And I thought of me.