This was written months ago....
I am again moving on the familiar roads of Delhi. The traffic is as usual. This city has seen much. It has had many a rendezvous with tragedy. The bus-stop at Uphar cinema holds an advertisement for an insurance company. The city always moves on. At a signal light, my thoughts are interrupted by a knock on the window. There’s a little girl, shabby hair and face, hand and nose pressed to the window glass, mumbling the obvious. I give her an apple. She points to her brother and asks for another one. I hesitate for a moment, then give her the other one. She simply turns and walks away reminding me that for some, life is a tragedy everyday. But I have my own way to go. I get busy counting milestones and finally after a long wait I am home. My mother had been waiting and I rushed to her. As I turn to get my things from the car, I see the marks of the little girl’s hands - still there on the window-glass.