The Girl on the Car Window

Saturday, 10:30 PM. After a long and tiring day at work Mr. Mukherjee was finally returning home. Comfortably ensconced in the mauve leather of his brand new metallic gray Honda City he went into a doze, with the AC on and while the chauffer drove silently under the dimly lit night sky of Gurgaon.

With sudden thunder, flickers of lightning crisscrossed the night sky and strident noises of a thunderstorm woke him up from his peaceful nap.

He looked at the sky and murmured "ohhhh……..not a storm now, its going to take a long time to reach home’.

To his utter dismay it started pouring and that too with relentless fervor. He ordered his chauffer to park the car by the side of the road and wait for the weather to calm down. Raghu the chauffer, parked the car and put on the radio. "The Sensex has crossed 12000 points’" came the energetic announcement from one of the RJs, discussion was going on about the rise of India in the 21st century.

˜Indeed’, thought Mr. Mukherjee how India has progressed in the last 10 years. Everything seems to have changed and that to for the better. The road he was traveling on, is an extension of the National highway and could easily fit into any of the Hollywood flicks, so beautiful and well maintained it was. The office he worked in, the Indian headquarters of an IT multinational, was all glass and steel and the residential complex he lived in, complete with swimming pool and tennis courts; things almost unimaginable in India even a few years back.

These rosy bites of pleasure momentarily made him feel a little happy, brushing away thoughts of being caught in the storm.

As he glanced outside, he saw they were alone on the road as it was quite late, almost 10:15 PM, occasional trucks whizzed past them with sudden flush of a "whoosh" noise. Smoldering headlights focusing unapologetically on his wind screen. With the storm gathering momentum and the rain gushing down on the car roof, he slouched down into the soft leather of his seat and prepared to doze off.

It was not to be, he was startled by a knock in the window to his left. He turned that way, with squinted eyes focusing hard he saw, against the glass window was the face of a little girl, with her nose pressed hard against the glass pane and saying something. He pushed a button and the automatic window came down smoothly.

The image became clearer, a little girl, 8 or 9 years old, almost the age of his own daughter. Shoddy clothes and patches of mud on her face, with the mud now melting into narrow streams, down the contours of her small face, along with the dripping rainwater. ‘Beggar’ thought Mr. Mukherjee . He was right. The girl muttered quaintly in a weak voice, ‘ babu..give some money babu….. I am hungry’.

His hands scrambled inside the trouser pockets and out came a five rupee coin, which he promptly gave to the little girl.

A smile dawned over her small face as she eagerly grasped the coin, perhaps the amount was more than she had expected! Then suddenly before Mr. Mukherjee could say anything, the girl turned back and ran off and vanished into the dark, towards the opposite side of the road.

Mr. Mukherjee rolled up the automatic window. The rain was thinning down, it was time for them to start again. Raghu turned on the ignition keys and the soft murmur of the Honda City filled up the air waves. The car hit a speed of 70 Kms within no time on the smooth velvety road.

The radio was on, the beautiful buildings still adorned the highway as usual, the soft leather seat had taken a comforting contour, adapting to the occupants comfort .. b ut yet a feeling of unease crept up inside Mr. Mukherjee.
What as that feeling? He could’nt comprehend. A feeling ... very close to ‘guilt’ was bubbling inside.

Yet another lightning flashed upon the sky. Almost abruptly all the encompassing luxury seemed trivial and once again an innocent little voice floated by his mind ...

"babu...give some money babu." I am hungry ...