The writing on the wall

A candlelight vigil was held last night for the Nithari children.

It was held at the same place where just a few months back the tout delhi was present in force, led by the urban middle class and the youth fuelled by images of Rang de Basanti, to fight for justice for Jessica and Priyadarshini. The vigil was widely covered by the media in live broadcasts.

Yesterday's vigil went unnoticed.

Just a handful of people were there: the bereaved families and a few others. It did not even make it to the front page. An article on page 3 stated simply: Public zeal missing from Nihari protest!

A chill went down my back bringing to my mind almost apocalyptic images of the future.. People power had also succumbed to the great divide. We had failed to recognise the writing on the wall. Did we feel that such incidents could never happen to us and hence we did not need to act? Did we just feel safe in our urban middle class reality?

There are many disturbing questions that come to mind, questions we just push away as they would require us to look into ourselves and compel us to take responsibilty. So we simply wash our hands off and look away hoping that some plausible answer will be found soon and allow us to carry on till the next incident.

I am in the game of changing lives. A path I chose to walk because I felt I had a debt to pay. In the last seven years I have had to revise this larger than life attitude and come face to face with reality. Changing lives or crossing the great divide is in no way an act of charity. It is simply investing in your own future, a future where we cannot wish away those who live on the other side.