Watching the evening rush of the city. I sit back and wonder at the single-minded determination on each face that flashes by. Every person seems to know exactly where he or she is headed. The businessman in his air conditioned car awaits the green signal with impatience writ large on his face, while the sandal footed clerk gathers his umbrella and Tiffin box as he looks for a break in the traffic so that he can dash across.
Some are rushing home while others have appointments with friends in the melee, an old man stumbles and falls. The brisk walker and motorists skirt around him and rush off, with a cursory glance. A handicapped youngster hesitates as his crutches dodder over the high pavement. People give him space, so that he may not fall on them, and move on briskly. These people are the non-conformists. They disturb the efficient routine of the rush hour traffic and are irritants in the clockwork precision of corporate life.
And yet, I can feel the radiation of an uncanny glow, something supernatural which is not definable. Am I the only one who can see the aura around these humans? Is it my imagination, or do I feel that God is sitting right there with the sick, the old and the handicapped, and watching the zealous rush past him to their respective temples, churches and mosques?
