In due course small electric vehicles may come but for the present the Auto is the practical vehicle for our essential local requirements. This three wheeler will be particularly used for the needs of the vocational units of Pathway, to transport material to and from the market such as our various products including pickles and printed matter, inks, paper, bread, farm produce, and for rushing to hospital , fetching a doctor or medicines, getting a plumber or electrician, dropping a visitor or a volunteer back home, buying vegetables, etc etc. Multipurpose and very economical.

It is a dream realised, Prasad repeated again, because the other vehicles were becoming impossibly expensive to run and repair and maintain, and now we were looking forward to some substantial economies in expenditure, at the same time making so many tasks easier.

Inspired by his infectious enthusiasm over the word “dream”, I started to hum, in a soft whisper, Martin Luther’s famous “ I have a dream....”

Finding Prasad in a receptive and leisurely mood, free from tensions now because Pathway has at last an autorickshaw, I recited the whole quote: “I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up, live out the true meaning of its creed: we hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal.”

And now my own dream is to have a ride in this vehicle on its maiden voyage into the city, will you take me with you, I implored Prasad.

There is a cartoon joke at the expense of autorickshaws of the city, ( though not all of them are so provoking, and there are some very good ones which rush you to the hospital free when you are injured, and provide free transport to the clinic for child delivery): “I dream of a Chennai where an autorickshaw driver outside Central station slaps on the passenger's face since the passenger offered Rs.2/= in addition to the fare shown by the meter (which cannot be tampered with).”

Having your own Auto is heaven of course, and I would switch my volunteering from Pathway Bakery to the Pathway Auto instantly, I ventured. Prasad looked skeptical, as to how safe that might be, but said nothing. You can have a ride, but I can’t come with you just now, he told me. Our driver Kannan will take you. Take these three children Divya, Mallika,and Sowmya to the Adyar tailor shop, where they will give their measurements for new clothes. And from there you can safely take a bus to Saidapet, this is not peak traffic hour. Kannan will bring the children safely back.”

You should have seen the glee on the faces of the children as they got into the new auto, and the envious faces of the other children who of course would wait for their turn. I fancied that the three occupants of the Auto were overjoyed all the more because I, their affectionate uncle, was accompanying them .

They shuffled and reshuffled to provide the maximum seating space for me, and Dorai made Devi sit on his lap, since they were over solicitous about my comfort. I have never experienced greater love in life and surely never felt so much wanted, just for togetherness. I was feeling ecstatic that I was instrumental in substantially increasing their joy by simply being with them. Without me they might have just travelled silently without exchanging a word with each other, and coldly transacted the business with the tailor and returned to Pathway very probably bored. I was in charge, providing the enthusiasm and the right playful spirit and picnic gaiety. Indeed I can’t tell you how great, useful and so very important I felt that moment. I even felt that the children knew that but for me, and my asking Prasad for permission to ride, they would not have got the chance, they owed everything to me. I was their proud uncle.

And thus we travelled, pointing to every sound and sight on the route and making quite a racket, and others on the road might have wondered what all this clamorous jubilation could be for. After we reached the tailor’s, I took leave of them and started to look for the nearest city bus stop. But they held my hand and wouldn’t let me go. Stay with us, they pleaded. We will get new clothes for you too. We will go to the zoo from here. Or to the beach. And why not to Mahabalipuram?

They began to cry disconsolately when I flatly and firmly said, Not now, maybe next time, and started moving towards my bus stop. I did not look back because they were already melting and tearing up my heart too much, and I must leave it to the able driver to manage them and take them back to Pathway in sensible time so that somebody else may go in the Auto somewhere else. After all there was so much work to do.

But I couldn’t get into the bus. When the right number of bus came, my legs failed. My heart accused me bitterly. You brute, how can you be so callous when the children want your company so badly? How could you bear their tears? Is this the way to treat young ones’ love for you? Are you so insensitive? Go back and make amends. Not possible to go to Mahabalipuram, it wasn’t permitted, but you can at least buy them some chocolates. Or perhaps ice-cream.

I traced my steps back to the tailor’s. I expected them to be standing and crying in my direction. I stood a few feet away for a while and watched them. They had already forgotten me. The three kids were immersed in the fabrics kept on display. Each one was draping another with flowing pieces of silken fabric and offering copious comment on the qualities. The driver was having a tough time convincing them that they were here only to buy essential uniforms for school and no fancy angel stuff should be touched today, but they wouldn’t care. Let us at least feel the soft textures by running our fingers through them and appreciate the shades in the light and also in the dark, inside the shop and also just outside. Allow us to use the mirror, please.

The tailor was in animated conversation with them, tempting them with this and that. Soon other children from the neighbourhood joined and began offering advice. Nobody cared to notice me even though I was standing close enough. I was not necessary for anybody’s happiness. I was only a useless appendage. A pointless superfluity. I had nothing to offer, nothing to add to their happiness, really, nothing to contribute. I had no place in their world, they could get along very well without me. Why bother them?

Still, how could they forget me so very soon, after all those copious gestures of love and the tearful farewells , even before I could hardly catch the bus? Oh, how vainly had I imagined so much! I was not needed. I better go home.

That night before going to bed the Scripture reading that opened to me was this: Behold the flowers of the field, consider the birds of the air......

Stand still for a moment and enjoy what God has created. Don’t worry about some bygone thing in your life when the formation of birds is flying over to delight you. Have you ever looked closely at a flower? Buddha twirled a flower in his hand while he was interviewing his disciples for choosing a successor, and only Kashyapa smiled at that gesture, while all the others remained dumb, and Buddha selected Kashyapa. Learn to savour this present moment, this eternal here-and – now. Live always in the present, and you will savour every moment like the children. Carefree children in the presence of God. Understand what it means to become as little children.

A week later I purchased a tiny book ( I love tiny books, to carry in my pocket and read in the bus unobtrusively unnoticed), which could fit into your palm, and the first thing that caught my eye was the chapter: “Learn from kids as they live in the moment.” Book by Richard Carlson. “A DON’T SWEAT THE SMALL STUFF TREASURY – A SPECIAL SELECTION FOR MOTHERS.

Children naturally live in the present, it says. Your attention should be fully engaged in whatever is your present moment. Enjoy the current moment to the full. If you are bothered or upset, it is usually over something that is over or is yet to be, why let it spoil the present moment? Children intuitively understand that life is a series of present moments, each meant to be experienced wholly, one right after another, each equally important. Immersed in the here and now. Full attention. Totally absorbed. But this doesn’t mean you don’t learn from the past or that you don’t plan for tomorrow. Sufficient for the day. Let tomorrows take care of themselves. Trust in God. He will conduct you, if only you will assist Him by tapping the tremendous energy He has packed for you in each passing moment. To illustrate it further, the author gives his own experience too:

My daughter and I were playing in her sandbox, having a great time together, when the babysitter arrived. As I stood to leave, my daughter let out a fierce scream of disapproval. It was as if she were saying, “ How dare you interrupt our fun together!” She yelled and screamed and complained that she didn’t want the sitter – it HAD to be ME, only ME! But, shortly after I “escaped”, I realised that I had forgotten my car keys and I went inside to get them. I peeked out the back door and saw that my daughter was all smiles and laughter, playing, once again, in the sandbox. She was absorbed in her beautiful present moments. She had completely LET GO of the past – even though the past was only a few minutes old.”

Kiru