There is an image etched on me..i dont know if its on the heart or the mind or the soul..it just refuses to leave. It goes like this...One morning I was late for office and was rushing to the bus stop..on the way I remembered my cell phone forgotten at home. Cursing all the way I turned back and started walking home..as fast as I could. In front of me I saw rag picker girl, barely 12, covered only in a sheet of what looked like a worn out mat...She was walking towards me in the same pace that I was walking towards her. Obviously ignoring the scores of people staring at her walk away. My heart skipped a beat. Unconsciously I slowed down..part of me wanted to stop and help her..another part was too stunned to react and yet another part was feeling ashamed of my existence.It wasn't the fact that she only had a mat to cover her, It was the walk, the look in her eyes, the confidence with which she carried herself. This was probably my first exposure to rape on the streets and it was jus...
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