Little drops fall into potholes in the street. Tiny eyes look out from their yellow tents supported by tall, sturdy branches, to see if it’s that time of the year. Within seconds the shallow potholes are brimming with water – a muddy brown – and it doesn’t take long before the sound of heavy rain acts as a summon to the little children huddled in the tents of the nearby slums. They run on to the streets – jumping, playing and enjoying – the rain. While one splashes water, the other jumps into the puddle. They listen to nature’s music and dance to its tunes while we just sit within four brick walls, beside our windows with a hot cup of tea taking in nature’s beauty through the eyes of a concrete window. We capture a perfect picture to upload on social media, while they are a part of the picture itself. We order in hot samosas and bhajjis to hog on, while they stand by the petite roadside tea stall and munch on crispy treats in the chilly monsson. The fear of catching a terrible flu successfully suppresses the urge to play in the rain but nothing puts a full stop to their fun.
Surprisingly, you and I have greater access to medicine.
(A 7-part series to bring out the ironies in life between the rich and the poor).