Valour or Equanimity

“Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.” ― Lao Tzu

The main gate of our building opens on the Rajyog Marg, a narrow, long lane which leads to the main road on one end and towards Ravet, an upcoming locale to the other end. However, the road leading to Ravet is not yet set, it is a muddy path with gravel which has got hardened due to the sun’s heat and rainwater. The narrow road widens into a large expanse and encompasses a lowland where garbage is dumped, sorted and disseminated to sellers.

This area has a board of the Pimpri Chinchwad Municipal Corporation stuck in the ground signifying the negligence of the Muncipal Authorities. Once we traverse this area, we are in Ravet, which is full of life with a multitude of shopping arenas, bazaars, eateries, hospitals,Gym and aerobic classes, hardware and grocery shops. The well lit skyscrapers  incorporated with their own generator and transformers embrace the well paved long roads, speaking of augmentation and development in that area. People enjoy walking and conversing at the shopping arenas and the open air restaurants. It is indeed a lively place. It was around six in the evening. I could see the blue sky change  hues of red to shades of grey throwing me into a dilemma of taking the long route to reach Ravet or just walking  across the ill maintained road at a stone’s throw. I resolved to walk across the kuccha road.

As  I passed the lowland I met this little girl who must have been no more than twelve  years of age.  Clad in a Salwar Kameez with her dupatta tied securely as adults she drove a worn out bicycle. She had a huge bundle of twigs on the back seat. Her face had a charm which made me stop her on a whim. Many a times this stretch is lonely with hooligans driving ruthlessly. There are eve teasers at times and a pack of dogs to keep people at bay. As such most of us fear driving bikes or cars on this stretch, but this girl seemed  at ease while driving. It must have been her customary route as there were a few dried bristly wild growing plants too. I halted and found out about those twigs. She got down from the bicycle  and told me that it was for fire wood . I recognised that she worked as a maid. I looked and nodded my head saying “school”. She understood what I intended to know. She said studies and the school were in her village, but here she was a maid. A little ahead, I saw the garbage being sorted and sold to other rag pickers. There were a few weird looking people too. A youngster who had taken the responsibility   was seated on the bags as he was computing the produce.

Garbage has indeed become a produce these days.  Affluence  has led to wastefulness with a lack of prudence. By now the little girl was far away. I was walking at a fast pace, reflecting the proceeds. I reminisced my childhood when I fostered fear of being sent on errands  in the evenings. I saw a few more  youngsters go across the place. They spoke in hushed voices with terror transfixing them. Girls were escorted by their parents. Every one traversing the path was laden with trepidation, but  the little girl who carried those twigs knew no fear, perhaps  she was more concerned about the twigs for firewood than about herself to be aware of her loneliness to experience a fear while crossing the trail. It reminded me that

 “Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgement that something else is more important than fear.” ― Ambrose Redmoon