Cornflakes of Compassion
Head buried between cradled knees, I sobbed rhythmically with the clacking India railway train. The Indian family sharing the tiny sleep cabin courteously ignored me.
Visions poured from my tears:
— A young girl pounding the side of the van and holding up a filthy, naked newborn pleading for money.
— Feeling inadequate to help the young boy begging on the train station whose enlarged cartoon-like rubbery foot disclosed his encephalitis.
Looking up, I saw the four-year-old singing to me with a thick Hindi accent: “Don’t Worry, Be Happy.”
Arms outstretched, this Japalpur child offered me cornflakes — tiny cupped hands of compassion.
Photo credit: Adam Cohn
I was just browsing through and the train caught my attention. I take that train everyday to work.
Lovely piece you have written. It shows that sometimes, compassion comes unexpected, from strangers.
Archie:
thank you. It was a lesson in unexpected compassion that has stayed with me.
It’s a smart, crispy and memorable piece of fiction. Very impressive of course.
Thank you Tony and Atif for your kind response to my writing. Tony thank you for sharing that the last eight words will stay with you. And Atif, thank you for the highest compliment of mistaking my nonfiction words as fiction.
Powerful, all of it — but it is the final paragraph that will stay with me, and especially the last eight words.