The Girl with a Peacock Feather

Mumbai’s monsoon is proverbial all over India. At one second the sky will be clear with the sun shining radiantly and at the other, it will turn inclement. People here have become accustomed to such out of the blue situations.  I woke up in the morning listening to the raindrops. Since my mom was busy with her work I didn’t choose to disturb her and decided to make something on my own for breakfast. I made myself a cup of coffee and some peanut butter sandwiches. I sat against the window and looked at the rain outside. Everything looked hazy. I could feel the cool breeze touching my face and also changing the direction of the steam coming out of my coffee. 

I heard a knock on the door. I opened it and saw our family friends Mr and Mrs Nayak (real names not revealed to conceal their identities) standing outside. They both gave me a hug and sat in the drawing room. Mom made some tea for them and we all sat together and discussed the current happenings of our lives. Mr. Nayak is one of the most adventurous people I have ever met. He has a certain kind of affinity towards bizarre stuffs. No wonder we both get along so well with each other. I often tell him that he should have been a mountaineer instead of a doctor.  Whereas Mrs.Nayak is also a doctor like her husband but they are poles apart. She has a demure nature and is a bit of an introvert. Since it was raining outside, Mr.Nayak decided to take all of us for a long drive. Mrs.Nayak was tentative but she agreed later on. Persuading her is not a cinch! Unfortunately mom couldn’t join us due to her pending work. We all fastened our seat belts and carried some snacks along with us. Mr.Nayak was driving and Mrs Nayak sat beside him. We all talked for a while and then were listening to some old melodious songs and co-incidentally the songs perfectly matched the weather! I was looking at the rain drops falling on the windowpane. Such state of affairs urge me to write some inspirational lines in my diary.  But alas, I hadn’t carried it along with me. Suddenly the car halted as the red signal was on. I saw a young girl standing near the car opposite ours. She was hardly 10 years old. She wore a yellow frock which was torn from many parts and had placed a beautiful peacock feather in her hair so elegantly that it almost looked like a hairclip. Her jet black eyes were filled with innocence. She was selling some Jasmine Gajras. The tempestuous weather didn’t seem to bother her. Although she was shivering due to the increasing frigidness, there was a precious smile on her little face. But there was something else that had caught my eye. The girl was using some kind of sign language to communicate with people. It was evident that she was a mute. Soon she came and stood near our car. Before I could say or do anything Mr. Nayak grimaced at her and started cursing the girl. I couldn’t believe my eyes and ears. I had always seen him laughing and jesting and for the first time in my life I was seeing a new Avatar of Mr.Nayak.  The girl was touching the window and pointing downwards. It seemed that she was trying to show something. Mrs Nayak opened the window and warned her to stand away from their car.  The girl kept pointing downwards. I had seen enough. I opened my window and offered her some money. I told her that I didn’t want Gajras but she can keep the money. She shook her head in disagreement and tried to hand over some Gajras to me. But before I could take them from her the signal turned green and Mr.Nayak drove the car. I could make out that my act had made them livid but I chose not to bother. There was an awkward silence between the three of us. Soon there was a red signal again. A taxi stood on our left side. The driver opened his window and knocked at the window against Mrs. Nayak. She opened hers and the driver told her that her dupatta is falling out of the car is very near to the tire. She quickly opened the door and pulled it inside. She also thanked the driver and smiled at him. I now realized why the young girl was pointing downwards. But instead of receiving gratefulness, she was being cursed. Mrs. Nayak smiled at the driver but abused and mistreated the poor girl who only wanted to help her. Although she was ill-treated by her, she kept pointing downwards. They dropped me at my colony gate, bid me goodbye and drove away. While walking back home, some questions kept ringing in my mind.

 Does being affluent give us the liberty to insult those who are underprivileged? Why do we treat them worse than trash? Aren’t they created by the same almighty? And who do you think is more civilized? Mr. and Mrs Nayak who wear big-ticket clothes, roam in their pricey car and ill-treat people who are underprivileged or the little girl with a peacock feather who wasn’t willing to accept money from people without selling them her Gajras and who tried to save Mrs. Nayak’s life and continued her attempt even after being insulted by her?