I was walking to class. The weather was awful; bitter cold temperatures that chilled to the bone. Raging winds did not help, succeeding in driving an icy feeling through ones warm flesh and blood. The feeling? Like a hot knife melting through butter.
It was on such a day that I noticed two very bewildering things. Suddenly, people on the street had lost their individuality. They were all like snowflakes; unique, yet nameless and faceless. I stopped. People continued rushing past me. What I was doing in that blistery winter was my business. Nobody cared.
The second spectacle was a man in rags, who lay shivering in the gutter. Nobody saw him. Or they chose not to acknowledge him. The thought running through everyone’s mind? It is not my responsibility. Someone else will help him. It went through my mind as well. I was late for class that was my justification. What happened to that man? I do not know. Every religion teaches us to help the needy. As the saying goes, one good turn deserves another. Did anyone pay heed on that wintry day?
I am walking back home from class. The snow is so thick I cannot see the grey sidewalk. I trudge carefully. Nothing happens. I get bolder and start walking quickly. Suddenly the snow beneath me gives way and I slip. My ankle twists as I crash to the ground. People look at me with concern. Then, before I ask for help, as if they know what is coming next, they all scurry away looking at me apologetically from the corner of their eyes. I cry out in frustration and pound the soggy snow. Suddenly, I hear a voice above my head and look up at the sweetest pair of eyes I have ever seen. You look like you could use a hand. Why don’t I help you get back home? Where do you live? Yes, she helped me limp all the way back, supporting my weight with her tiny frame. You are so kind. Which religion do you belong to? I asked. I had to know which faith had ingrained such kindness into this girl’s soul. She smiled, looked me in the eye and said, I belong to the religion of humanity.
