You know how we sometimes think that that we do not have much to give away to someone? Like when someone needs a word of advice, we can be miserly and think what can I possibly tell her what to do? Or when someone is looking for sympathy or just a sly shoulder to cry on, we might say to ourselves, damn with self-pity! Why bother consoling? Life is hard enough. So my friend here needs to toughen up for that big bad world out there. No word of consolation is going away from me today, no sir, uh-uh.
Then the best people to practice empathy in routine day are the ones who, un-abashed come to us; crawling, open-palmed, with misery as a mask. I know what we have been taught. These people are ragged, shameless and they have cable TV at home. Their façade is all a scam, a theatrical show, if you please. Excuse me for saying so, but at least I do not possess an X-ray vision that tells me what a person had for breakfast or if he has X-box at home which he bought by being quite a successful beggar on the busy market streets.
So, since I do not have that X-ray vision, and I am certainly not psychic, nor a detective; my job is not to judge either. What I choose to do goes only as far as to what I decide to do. What I decide to do impacts me first and much more than the out-stretched hand that goes with a tear stained face, all deliberately messy with dirt and perhaps even soot. I am my judge and jury. I am the convict and the innocent. My jurisdiction and my realm extends as far as my material body occupies the space in this physical plane.
There is always plenty to give away. Shove your hand deep into that pocket or your bright, ketchup-coloured, red handbag. You are bound to find a hanky, or a word, perhaps even a shoulder or a five rupees coin if you look deep enough. There is always more to give away. You just need an eye that can find what to give and a hand that is willing to part with something of your own.