A little boy's tale of what he lost and how!

(The following is a narrative by an unknown person)

I was walking around in a big bazaar store shopping, when I saw a cashier talking to a boy who couldn't have been more than 5 or 6 years old.
The cashier said, "I'm sorry, but you don't have enough money to buy this doll. Then the little boy turned to the cashier and asked: are you sure I don't have enough money?''
The cashier counted his cash once again and replied: ''You know that you don't have enough money to buy the doll, my dear.''
The little boy was still holding the doll in his hand.
Finally, I walked toward him and I asked him who he wished to give this doll to. "It's the doll that my sister loved most and wanted so much . I wanted to gift it to her for her birthday. I have to give the doll to my mommy so that she can give it to my sister when she goes there.'
And then he said: "My Sister has gone to be with God. Daddy says that Mommy is going to see God very soon too, so I thought that she could take the doll with her to give it to my sister...''
My heart nearly stopped. The little boy looked up at me and said: "I told Daddy to tell Mommy not to go yet. I need her to wait until I come back from the mall."
Then he showed me a very nice photo of him where he was laughing. He then told me "I want Mommy to take my picture with her so my sister won't forget me. I love my Mommy and I wish she doesn't have to leave me, but Daddy says that she has to go to be with my little sister."
Then he looked again at the doll with sad eyes, very quietly....
I quickly reached for my wallet and said to the boy, "Suppose we check again, just in case you do have enough money for the doll?''
"OK," he said. "I hope I do have enough.'
I added some of my money to his without him seeing it and we started to count the money. There was enough for the doll and even some spare money.
The little boy said: "Thank you God for giving me enough money!"
Then he looked at me and added, "I asked last night before I went to sleep for God to make sure I had enough money to buy this doll, so that Mommy could give It to my sister. He heard me! I also wanted to have enough money to buy a white rose for my Mommy, but I didn't dare to ask God for too much. But He gave me enough to buy the doll and a white rose. My mommy loves white roses."
I finished my shopping in a totally different state of mind from when I started. I couldn't get the little boy out of my mind.
Then I remembered a local news paper article two days ago, which mentioned a drunk man in a truck, who hit a car occupied by a young woman and a little girl. The little girl had died right away, and the mother was left in a critical state. The family had to decide whether to pull the plug on the life-sustaining machine, because the young woman would not be able to recover from the coma. Was this the family of the little boy?
Two days after this encounter with the little boy, I read in the newspaper that the young woman had passed away. I couldn't stop myself as I bought a bunch of white roses and I went to the funeral home where the body of the young woman was kept for people to see and make last wishes before her burial.
She was there, in her coffin, holding a beautiful white rose in her hand with the photo of the little boy and the doll placed over her chest. I left the place, teary-eyed, feeling that my life had been changed for ever...
The love that the little boy had for his mother and his sister is still, to this day, hard to imagine.
And in a fraction of a second, a drunk driver had taken all this away from him....!

If you are an Indian, you may not like it, but still...

Reflections on India By Sean Paul Kelley
    
Sean Paul Kelley is a travel writer, former radio host, and before that an asset manager for a Wall Street investment bank that is still (barely) alive. He recently left a fantastic job in Singapore working for Solar Winds, a software company based out of Austin to travel around the world for a year (or two). He founded The Agonist, in 2002, which is still considered the top international affairs, culture and news destination for progressives. He is also the Global Correspondent for The Young Turks, on satellite radio and Air America .
    
     If you are Indian, or of Indian descent, I must preface this post with a clear warning: you are not going to like what I have to say. My criticisms may be very hard to stomach. But consider them as the hard words and loving advice of a good friend. Someone who’s being honest with you and wants nothing from you. 
    These criticisms apply  to all of India except Kerala and the places I didn’t visit, except that I have a feeling it applies to all of India , except as I mentioned before, Kerala. 
    Lastly, before anyone accuses me of Western Cultural Imperialism, let me say this: if this is what India and Indians want, then hey, who am I to tell them differently. Take what you like and leave the rest. In the end it doesn’t really matter, as I get the sense that Indians, at least many upper class Indians, don’t seem to care and the lower classes just don’t know any better, what with Indian culture being so intense and pervasive on the sub-continent. But here goes, nonetheless. 
    India is a mess. It’s that simple, but it’s also quite complicated. I’ll start with what I think are India ’s four major problems–the four most preventing India from becoming a developing nation–and then move to some of the ancillary ones. 
    First, pollution. In my opinion, the filth, squalor and all around pollution indicates a marked lack of respect for India by Indians. I don’t know how cultural the filth is, but it’s really beyond anything I have ever encountered.  At times the smells, trash, refuse and excrement are like a garbage dump. 
    Right next door to the Taj Mahal was a pile of trash that smelled so bad, was so foul, as to almost ruin the entire Taj experience. Delhi , Bangalore and Chennai, to a lesser degree, were so very polluted as to make me physically ill. Sinus infections, ear infection, bowels churning was an all too common experience in India . Dung, be it goat, cow or human fecal matter, was common on the streets. In major tourist areas, filth was everywhere, littering the sidewalks, the roadways, you name it. Toilets in the middle of the road, men urinating and defecating anywhere, in broad daylight. 
    Whole villages are plastic bag wastelands. Roadsides are choked by it. Air quality that can hardly be called quality. Far too much coal and far to few unleaded vehicles on the road. The measure should be, how dangerous the air is for one’s health, not how good it is. People casually throw trash in the streets, on the roads.
    The only two cities that could be considered sanitary in my journey were Trivandrum –the capital of Kerala–and Calicut . I don’t know why this is. But I can assure you that at some point this pollution will cut into India’s productivity, if it already hasn’t. The pollution will hobble India ’s growth path, if that indeed is what the country wants. (Which I personally doubt, as India is far too conservative a country, in the small ‘c’ sense.)
    The second issue, infrastructure, can be divided into four subcategories: roads, rails and ports and the electrical grid. The electrical grid is a joke. Load shedding is all too common, everywhere in India . Wide swaths of the country spend much of the day without the electricity they actually pay for. With out regular electricity, productivity, again, falls. 
    The ports are a joke. Antiquated, out of date, hardly even appropriate for the mechanized world of container ports, more in line with the days of longshoremen and the like. Roads are an equal disaster. I only saw one elevated highway that would be considered decent in Thailand , much less Western Europe or America . And I covered fully two thirds of the country during my visit. 
    There are so few dual carriage way roads as to be laughable. There are no traffic laws to speak of, and if there are, they are rarely obeyed, much less enforced. A drive that should take an hour takes three. A drive that should take three takes nine. The buses are at least thirty years old, if not older. 
    Everyone in India , or who travels in India, raves about the railway system. Rubbish. It’s awful. now, when I was there in 2003 and then late 2004, it was decent. But in the last five years, the traffic on the rails has grown so quickly that once again, it is threatening productivity. Waiting in line just to ask a question now, takes thirty minutes. Routes are routinely sold out three and four days in advance now, leaving travelers stranded with little option except to take the decrepit and dangerous buses. 
    At least fifty million people use the trains a day in India . 50 million people! Not surprising that waitlists of 500 or more people are common now. The rails are affordable and comprehensive, but they are overcrowded and what with budget airlines popping up in India like Sadhus in an ashram, the middle and lowers classes are left to deal with the overutilized rails and quality suffers. No one seems to give a shit. 
    Seriously, I just never have the impression that the Indian government really cares. Too interested in buying weapons from Russia , Israel and the US, I guess. 
    The last major problem in India is an old problem and can be divided into two parts that’ve
    been two sides of the same coin since government was invented: bureaucracy and corruption. 
    It take triplicates to register into a hotel. To get a SIM card for one’s phone is like wading into a jungle of red-tape and photocopies one is not likely to emerge from in a good mood, much less satisfied with customer service. 
    Getting train tickets is a terrible ordeal, first you have to find the train number, which takes 30 minutes, then you have to fill in the form, which is far from easy, then you have to wait in line to try and make a reservation, which takes 30 minutes at least and if you made a single mistake on the form back you go to the end of the queue, or what passes for a queue in India. 
    The government is notoriously uninterested in the problems of the commoners, too busy fleecing the rich, or trying to get rich themselves in some way shape or form. Take the trash for example, civil rubbish collection authorities are too busy taking kickbacks from the wealthy to keep their areas clean that they don’t have the time, manpower, money or interest in doing their job. 
    Rural hospitals are perennially understaffed as doctors pocket the fees the government pays them, never show up at the rural hospitals and practice in the cities instead. 
    I could go on for quite some time about my perception of India and its problems, but in all seriousness, I don’t think anyone in India really cares. And that, to me, is the biggest problem. India is too conservative a society to want to change in any way. 
    Mumbai, India ’s financial capital is about as filthy, polluted and poor as the worst city imaginable in Vietnam , or Indonesia –and being more polluted than Medan, in Sumatra is no easy task. The biggest rats I have ever seen were in Medan! 
    One would expect a certain amount of, yes, I am going to use this word, backwardness, in a country that hasn’t produced so many Nobel Laureates, nuclear physicists, imminent economists and entrepreneurs. But India has all these things and what have they brought back to India with them? Nothing. 
   The rich still have their servants, the lower castes are still there to do the dirty work and so the country remains in stasis. It’s a shame. Indians and India have many wonderful things to offer the world, but I’m far from sanguine that India will amount to much in my lifetime. 
   Now, have at it, call me a cultural imperialist, a spoiled child of the West and all that.  But remember, I’ve been there. I’ve done it. And I’ve seen 50 other countries on this planet and none, not even Ethiopia , have as long and gargantuan a laundry list of problems as India does. 
   And the bottom line is, I don’t think India really cares. Too complacent and too conservative.