An Atheist's Day Out

I board my college bus every morning. Ok, that’s false, most mornings. Somehow I have the knack for being just on time but late for everything, so it’s usually me running to my stop, breakfast in hand trying not to miss the bus. If I successfully board it, I sleep or look around. If I don’t, I end up taking an auto.

Recently, there’s an auto driver who’s always available to drop me off when I miss my bus. He drops other students to a college that’s near my home every morning and stops at a tea stall for a chai break. That’s where I find him, and it’s more convenient this way compared to explaining the details of location to my college to a new auto guy. I guess we had a silent agreement.

Of course, the day came, I repeated my morning routine of missing the bus and took the auto. On the way, I was looking around, at all the buildings and other people who were driving. I saw a few advertisement boards, one of them was selling something I can’t remember on the occasion of Ramzan. My auto uncle was muslim, I could tell from the cap, so I wondered if I could wish him.

Along the journey, we stopped at a signal. It was an intersection, and usually the place where beggars waited for the traffic to stop and ask for alms. I was used to it, but this time most of the beggars were muslims, they were disabled, crawling on the road. The sight hurt my eyes, and I began to wonder what my auto driver was thinking. I began to wonder if they were really muslim or they were just wearing the cap since it was Ramzan season. 

Then I berated myself for thinking that way, for doubting people who were poor and desperate. But I didn’t give them any money. Somehow I couldn’t bring myself to do that, call me extreme but since I wasn’t earning yet the money that I could give would be my dad’s. Then there’s the possibility that they weren’t genuine, that they might be a part of the begging mafia, which I didn’t want to contribute to. I also couldn’t bring myself to look at them when they were begging, there was guilt in me, as if I was doing something wrong. I was also glad that it wasn’t my responsibility to take care of them.

But whose responsibility is it? If not mine, then yours? The government’s? 

I do not know. But I definitely was overwhelmed by the gravity of the world at once. I realised I never noticed these people because I was usually on the bus and it was more elevated compared to an auto and I had never looked down. The difference in elevation felt like a literal difference in status, in life. This again reinforced the feelings I had when I watched the movie “parasite”.

I will ask once again, whose responsibility is it? I believe the answer is subjective. One answer could be, the society as a whole, but what is my role in it? And this makes me question more…how is the government helping the poor and disabled? Do the homeless have shelters? Are the shelters proper?

I reached my college, I got down the auto, paid him the fare and wished him “Ramzan Mubarak”. He looked at me and smiled, showing me his paan-stained teeth. It was a genuine one as if he was surprised. After all my agonising thoughts, his smile felt comforting. And with that sliver of hope, my thoughts began to fade. I started thinking of mundane things again. But as I write this, I fear that I’m just another citizen who is shifting the responsibility to others. I fear I will forget the society and those in need, to fulfil my own selfish needs. And that concludes “An Atheist’s Day Out”.

“Overcoming poverty is not a gesture of charity. It is an act of justice.” - Nelson Mandela