Scene at Domlur flyover

I hopped off the bus; jostled by the alighting herd. The art of mid-air spring-boarding and counter scurry being honed each day.The contact with tarmac triggers the mechanical glance of the wrist. Missing watch? Shoot!
Approaching wheels greeted with nonchalance; 'Talk to the hand' while the other sets the play-list for the day. Lucy in the sky with diamonds.
Two strides to the other side. Breathe. A minute or two left before an action replay.

I watch the bustle of vehicles, awaiting a crowd to leap right in front of the unsuspecting ones, preferably and generally a woman.No one stops until you make them.
A bus halts by the fly over. A young lady hops out and before I could scramble behind her she sprints to the other side.Sigh.
My knees feel hot and damp. My palms grazed yet again.Never follow these young ones.
The wild, wet tendrils only suggest a spillover of shower over grooming time.
She turns around with an impatient look panning the horizon for the next one; she meets my eye halfway.

I see her snap; her eyes widen and well up with sympathy. Its been a while since I saw that. I lose her now; it is clouded and glazed. To her thoughts; she is pondering over my life..What would it be to be me? A Shudder. I have seen that quite often.
I inch closer, waiting...

Eight forty, just about enough to make it in time. Wish I had a car. Which one..? Maybe that Santro...A used one would do. No, maybe that one, with the dent! That's more like me.
And then I see him.Crawling.
With deformed spindly legs that couldn't have supported him ever. With tattered clothes. I felt my hands fumble in my purse, waiting for it to jingle.
He saw me, maybe he would come to me for alms. I would be glad. But would it really matter?
Would that buy him a wheelchair? Couldn't people with disability live respectfully? I shuddered.

Just then a man walked past me. Towards him. He stood in front of the busy lane with defiance. Raised his hand and didn't budge. No. Not the traffic police.
The grateful cripple paced across skilfully.

My ears burned. He didn't approach me either. I didn't take the bus either. That man with a beautiful mind did. I walked behind the willowy man on stumps. I lost him to the crowd.

My heart went out to him but my head didn't. Why wasn't it programmed to reach out? Blurred by sympathy and helplessness. Anger surges. I pace up. I feel eyes on me. I see his smile. As he propels the makeshift wheel barrow of sorts. Among a fresh bundle of newspaper. I smile back.