Half the day passed with sleep. Evening was supposedly a hang-out with friends. Climate seemed to be pleasant and supportive, maintaining relative temperatures for human conditions. All it had started off with smooth bike ride and chit chat with friends. I gobbled over burgers and other snacks during bakery visit and can’t resist the mention of delicious cheese-burger that tasted like hell. I was drowned in full fun and joy. Hilarious gossips and discussions filled grace and excitement in attitude. All in all, I had fun altogether and started heading back home.
On my half way I was halted by a stranger who carried some pleasing emotions. I had stopped my bike and gave an obvious look that appealed a question why the hell you stopped me? He looked scrawny, worn on old clothes that looked hadn't been laundered for weeks. He spoke up with his intro in English that seemed to be fluent and flawless also sounded decent. His mention as MBA graduate startled me a bit not until he asked to do a small favor. I figured out he needs some help with money. However, when a stranger halts us midway and starts being polite and asks to do a small favor, he means beseeching for money in one way or the other. I figured out that much from my past encounters with several other strangers who started off with intro and ended up asking for small favor that meant money forever. Most of them mentioned they held PG degree but never been someone showed up as a MBA graduate. I also happened to hear the stories of drug addicts and alcoholics who have been acting smart to people and acquiring money through sympathy or touchy stories or by whatever that contributed them money. Those never-ending media crime stories had taken away all my trust in every stranger I bumped into.
I decided not to help the man and praised myself for not encouraging a druggie. Not that I was judicial about him, yet my instincts didn’t let me help that poor guy or perhaps a druggie by any chance. While he was making up his words to speak again I pulled off my bike rather rudely but I didn’t bother to concern his feelings. After all, I only saw a druggie out of him instead of human with heart. Suddenly, he seemed to sense my disbelief in him and spoke loud enough to reach me and clear enough to draw my attention. All he said was “I don’t want money sir! All I want is a roti to fill up stomach. Buy me a roti if you can.” I heard his words that faded away with my proceeding but they stung me all of a sudden. Either was it because of the delicacy in his request or the mention of word “roti” I felt rueful for not helping him. His words rang in my ears all through my way home. “I should have helped him” is what I had thought of all night. I remembered him with a pang of guilt for not helping him. As a whole, guilt made up my day!