human condition
It had been a long flight from Kennedy Airport in New York. The Pan Am jumbo jet descended toward the runway in Cairo as I saw in the distance the majestic pyramids rising from the desert floor. We were delayed there for about an hour as authorities conducted a search for an unknown parcel. After nothing untoward was found, we ascended again toward the heavens to land some hours later at Bombay, India, in the wee hours of the morning. Safely through customs with bags in tow, I boarded a secure taxi for the short journey to the domestic airport for the first morning flight to Ahmadabad. Through the darkness an occasional street lamp would illuminate what appeared to be heaps of trash in plastic bags. I was trying to comprehend the disregard for proper trash removal when suddenly one of the bags moved. Then I observed more movement from other “bags” in different locations along the road. I was shaken to my core when I realized that the heaps of “trash” I had observed along the way were actually fellow human beings sleeping along the side of the road. Grief soon overtook my weary psyche and I wept almost uncontrollably at the plight of those along the road. Nothing had prepared me for the stark sight of the human condition I was witnessing. As I commented to the driver about my shocked revelation he responded “there are others not as fortunate as these folks for they have not found cover for the coming monsoon.” Suddenly, my terminally horrified thoughts made friends with the notion that there were others even less fortunate. In reflecting, I was gripped with the recollection of the parental admonition that “it could be worse”. That admonition never seemed to make sense until the plight of those along the way in Bombay came alive that day. The view of one’s condition is changed in light of the prism through which it is seen.