Importance of Self – esteem. What do we need- food or food with taste of self-respect ?

As soon as I reached the railway station, an ox struck his sharp horn to me. My hand started bleeding. I moved to some other place, what else could I do? Inside I was disgusted how these animals could move this freely, especially near the railway station. Also, I was not unknown to the amount of garbage lying inside the station. Railways are such a mess, the dirtiest place in any state, I murmured while bandaging my hand. While waiting for my train, I saw an elderly man eating bananas and throwing peels towards the bin. Unfortunately, none of the peel reached the bin, which was irritating me even more. Ouch! Before I could reach there and put the garbage in the bin, a child slipped over it and got injured. It’s a bad day, these people would never change, I was murmuring continuously.

Finally, I boarded the train. I got a corner seat. I started looking outside, feeling air touching my face, watching every passing village, different kinds of people, farmers working in fields. It mesmerized me so well that I forgot the scene of the station and felt lost in view outside the window.

As soon as I reached Vrindavan, I hired a rickshaw to visit the temples. Beautiful! This beauty must be the reason Lord Krishna decided to live here, I was wandering. When I stepped out of the Temple, I saw a long line of widows sitting to beg. Most of them had worn white or off-white saree and they were looking with the hope to get some coins. I was curious about that long line, so I started a conversation with some of the ladies. “My son kicked me out of home, now I am compelled to beg” one of them sobbingly said. The other said, “I have no one to look after me and that’s why I line up every day to beg”. The third lady who was comparatively healthier said that she was from a rich family but as soon as her husband died, her relatives acquired her property and threw her out. Most of them were helpless, had given up on life, and had an intensely sad story. I was pity on their condition, obviously.

Well after visiting the beautiful city, I reached Tundla station to board the train. It’s still an hour, I murmured while looking at my watch. I bought some cookies and went to the waiting room. There I saw the in charge of the waiting room was also a widow. I was surprised when I came to know that her husband passed away 8 years ago and she had to take care of her small kids. Instead of giving up and begging she struggled hard to get the job. She didn’t feed her babies by the gifted or thrown food; rather she worked day and night.

I then noticed she was not in regular white saree that is generally worn by widows; she had worn the railways uniform very elegantly. Oh, lady! You definitely made us proud, I said in an appreciating manner. Her smile had dignity, self-respect, and hope.

Finally, I reached home, comparing the two kinds of ladies I met. I now question myself, which kind of people do we need? Why do women consider themselves weaker? Why do they think there is no meaning of life after the husband? Why do people give up so easily? And do we need just food or food with a taste of respect?

Readers, if you have the answers please let me know in the comment section. I will be waiting.