“Do you have change for 100 Rupees?”

I planned to get ready early today. But by some celestial conspiracy, couldn’t make it on time.The last bus that stopped at my bus-stop had left. I caught an auto to the next stop. There was a bus due there in the next 5 mins. I tried to keep the fare ready, so that I need'nt waste time in paying for the auto.
I could not find my purse . I pulled out all the articles that populated my overloaded bag. All those things I had been searching for since time immemorial materialized out of the frantic exercise.
Rummaging through all the rubble, I fished out a 100 Rupee note and a 5 rupee coin, stuffed in some inner compartment of my bag, lying forgotten for days.

In compliance with Murphy’s laws, it so happened that the auto driver had to say that he did not have a ‘single paisa’ on him, me being his first savari for the day. I asked him to wait, got down and began asking all those fellow employees who were waiting for the bus. Some pretended not to hear, some shook their heads in denial even before I could address them. Some were deeply engaged in a telepathic conversation with the crow on the tree above. Most gave a very toothy grin, that made me feel that they were happy not to have been in my shoes. Perhaps they didn’t realise I was not begging but was just asking for change.

I would have asked atleast a dozen, when one lady finally felt it appropriate to check her purse before she answered. She had a fifty rupee note, which offered me. I took it and asked for name so that I could return it to her. She said “First pay the auto driver, I ll tell you afterwards”.

I went to the auto driver, imploring him to accept the 50 rupee note, and somehow come up with the change (as they do, sometimes). But Murphy struck again, by providing me with a “truthful” auto driver (a rare species), who genuinely did not have a ‘single paisa’ on him. Just then, someone else who was late and was hurrying for the bus came by. I stopped him with the same request. “Do you have change for 100 Rupees?” By now the question had become so trite to me, that I hardly expected an answer. That guy took out his purse and looked into it, despite his haste. All that he had were 100 Rupee notes. “How much do you want?”, he asked. The auto driver offered “hathu rupai saakamma” meaning “10 rupees is enough” (I was supposed to pay Rs 12). The good samaritian then fished out all the coins he had, and managed to bring out 5 rupees, that with my 5 rupee coin would make the needed 10. I thanked him profusely; I thanked the auto driver with equal fervour and gave the fare. I asked for my benefactor’s whereabouts, but he said “Its just 5 rupees, don’t bother returning”. I returned the 50 bucks to the lady, and thanked her for her genorosity. And waited for the bus. (Murphy got bored, I guess, the bus mercifully was late.)

This incident actually took me back to another point of time, where the bus I was travelling in, met with an accident. Many of us got injured. The rest, who were unharmed, simply got on to the next bus and went to office. The less injured had to help carry the severely wounded to a nearby polyclinic.
I was appalled at the lack of concern these people have towards their fellow employees. To think of the apathy, they would show towards rest of humanity, would leave me in shudders.

Although many corporates involve themselves in community service and the like, much of it is voluntary. I really feel that making this mandatory, would help sensitize these people ,with their minds as confined as their cubicles, to the world outside.