My walk to office (part 2 of 2)

As I walk along, I keep keen eye on the traffic and at the scaffolding right around the corner. I don't want my epitaph to read like – "A good son and man, killed by a flowerpot that fell off a window".
Perhaps that won't happen in London! So far, I haven't seen any flowerpots precariously perched on the balcony railings along with family innerwear in London – a sight common in a certain country I am very familiar with. Take a guess!


Again, I notice a man sitting on the pavement and begging. Interestingly, they are always young males – though they look quite battered. Moreover, there is always a new guy every day. Perhaps – they have a rotation system setup amongst themselves. I slow my pace and the sequence of thoughts which goes through my head whenever I see a beggar begins. Should I give him money, or not! One part of me refuses – the government which takes away nearly half of my annual income throws money at their welfare, and most probably this guy doesn't want to go to homeless shelter because he doesn't want to give up drugs. I also think if I am to spend a pound, I'd rather send it to India, where it will be Rs. 75 and go a long way. Another part of me says, for whatever reasons – this guy is less fortunate than I am. Perhaps the only difference between us is the will to do things, and that will was significantly defined by his genetic makeup and his upbringing. Both are not his fault! Well – they aren't my fault either! Sometimes Jekyll wins, and sometimes Hyde! Either I give 0, or a pound. I have noticed that without fail mine is usually the only pound in beggar's cup. Am I generous, or are others cheap?


As I wind my way through modern glass buildings in the heart of London – I feel pleased with myself. Years in Gurgaon, New York and Chicago had accustomed me to massive modern buildings with gigantic lobbies. For most part – London lacks them. I can't forget the magnificent sight the magnificent mile was as one got off the #6 bus from Hyde Park in Chicago. However, the area around my office has a few modern buildings. I feel alive when I see them. Here stands a pleasant symbol of regeneration! I like old buildings too – but on the other end of the fence with a board declaring – "This is a World Heritage Site. Please don't scratch on the walls – Pappu was here with Munny – 8 November 2009"

I am usually on phone with my family, when I cross Liverpool street station. There is a flower kiosk with a pretty salesgirl. I wonder if she happier than I am? She seems to have an easy job – agreed that she makes far less money. But is she happier than most people who make more money? Mentally, I agree with the study which said that the richer you are, happier you are – up to a certain limit – that is. But – has she reached that limit as a flower salesgirl in a developed economy? I don't need money to be happy – the feeling is hard wired into me. Then – shouldn't I sell flowers? Well – this is just a confused medley of thoughts which occur when you try to evade the morning crowd at a major railway station. I leave the station and the confusion behind and focus on the street and traffic again. I feel happy to see street bathed in sunlight.


A short walk later, my office building looms up. I say goodbye to my family, and enter another world.