George says: Write about it, loosely and intuitively, in your notebook. Just react to it…
A very heavy story indeed, is my first reaction. But of course I’d never be like that man in a hurry going to work and be irritated by someone who might or might not be hurt — or would I? I’d never be too busy not to notice someone else’s misfortune. Well, I know right away that this self appreciation of my unwavering noble motives is certainly misplaced. I turn away from people with signs on the freeway entrances all the time. I look away from the couples crouching together under a tree by the side of the road, their cardboard sign propped nearby. Well, actually, last time we drove by that tree near the offramp, I did look carefully, and didn’t see anyone there. Glad of that. I don’t like seeing these homeless people, these beggars, for that’s what they are.
Many more these days, many more. I do try to always give something to the mothers with children. But back to the story, An Incident. Why does he give away his money, is that a lot of money, more than the price of the ride, that he hands to the policeman to give to the rickshaw driver? Its penance, that’s for sure. So guilty he feels, so full of the realization of how wrong he had been, to be so unfeeling at the woman’s discomfort, so unwilling to even get up from his seat, so unwilling to even try to help.
He’s not rich himself, has to get up early to make a living, but at least he has a job and a fur lined cloak.
The part where he looks at the rickshaw man helping the old woman walk toward a source of help for her, and he feels the driver getting larger, himself shrinking — that’s certainly a powerful part. Sitting there motionless, his mind a blank. Strange feeling. Not until the policeman tells me to go find another ride does he wake up.
he’s ashamed, and reflects on his shame. Yet he gathers hope when the incident re occurs to him, keeps coming back, more vivid than in real life. Gives him fresh courage. Wow.