SPARE WHATEVER YOU CAN

Photo credits @Augustinus Wibowo

They say some stories never leave you. This one hasn't and hence, needs to be told. 

It was the winter of 1992 and our daughter had just come into our lives. Our first born. Our bundle of joy. Our everything. We all have our vanities and I remember how I had spent the last nine months fretting over every piece of clothing that was to adorn her beautiful body. I’d learnt to knit and put together several sets of sweaters, caps and mittens for this life that was growing inside of me. I'd bought several baby products and remember how her room smelt even before she arrived.

But along with all these pretty memories that soothe my senses, there’s one that gnaws at my soul even today. It happened when we had stepped out with our baby for the very first time on a cold December night. Wrapped in a soft apple green blanket, she looked a picture of perfection. We were in our prized Maruti car and headed home when we stopped at a traffic signal for a minute. It was freezing outside and being a first time mother, my paranoia knew no bounds. Every few minutes I’d check if my baby was warm enough even though she looked flushed and smothered with too much love. And just as I was about to tuck her bobbly head in for the umpteenth time, I heard a gentle tap on the car window and looked outside. A small boy wearing only a tattered shirt was selling incense sticks. And by only I mean just that. His face bore burn marks and eyes looked listless with sadness and misery and in that moment, even though he was the one standing outside in the biting cold, it was I who froze and for the first time that night I loosened my death grip on my child. But before I could react, the lights turned green and our car sped off. I remember crying the whole night at home, much to my husband's dismay.

Determined to do something about it, I returned the next day to the very spot with puffy eyes and a bundle of old clothes and food. But the boy was no where to be found. I enquired about him from others and searched for days but without much luck. Eventually, feeling beaten and terribly guilty, I gave away the bundle to another street kid his age. But even today, the memory of that cold winter night refuses to leave me. Every time I cross that intersection or see street children, which isn’t a very rare sight in India, I often wonder about that boy and why fate had dealt him such an unfair hand. After mulling over this uneven balance and the simple privileges of food, shelter and education that some have, I thought of doing something about it, no matter how small. Guilt is a great catalyst.

So, me and some like minded friends came forward and formed an organisation called “SPARE” – the full form of which is SOCIETY FOR PROMOTING PARTICIPATION, ACTION AND REFORM through which we try and SPARE whatever we can to bridge this ever burgeoning divide between the two India's - one that has a surplus of everything and one that lives in subhuman conditions. So if we, the fortunate few, could just SPARE a little of anything - love, empathy, resources, time and essentials, we just might be able to change the world - one soul at a time.  I firmly believe that it is only when we spare something in the service of others and take them along can we be worthy of calling ourselves a true Asian giant. A giant that doesn’t trample upon insignificant souls as it marches forward. A giant who doesn’t retard the growth of small beings that live under its shadow. But a giant that carries all its people on its broad shoulders as it climbs the charts of socio-economic prosperity.