Coming home from work or late night parties, I often have to stop at the traffic red light. Hail, rain or storm, I see an old man, tall, gaunt, shuffling along from car to car, his speech inadequate to convey what he wants because of Parkinsonism. Only his eyes convey it all. Some help, others don’t. But its not about handing over some money and soothing your conscience and wishing away that gut wrenching feeling. I find myself thinking about this man often, not necessarily when I am at the traffic lights.
I try to imagine the time when he was handsome, young energetic, loved and cared for because he could use his body to support others. And now, when his body is like a tree in winter and when he has to fend for himself. He is doing it. But it must be a struggle. It's easier to give him a few rupees and shut the window of your mind. Elder abuse and abandonment is a bit like AIDS in…
