Many summers ago, one evening I was roaming the streets of Paris Corner in Madras/Chennai after office. I go there to buy folders, papers and such stationary. That day, I was in one of the bylanes of the area opposite the Madras High Court (I don't remember which one) when I heard a child crying out in pain. I saw a hardly five year old boy with his hand dangling, obviously broken, and not bandaged, howling in pain. He obviously belonged to one of the families that hang out with a cycle rikshaw on the streets. I asked who his parents were. One of the guys suddenly got agitated with that question. I said we should take the boy to a hospital and I offered to go with them. Those guys simple refused to heed that. And I left after being assured that they would do the needful, which I doubt they did.
Those days I was living in a house in Saligramam, a good 45 minutes by bus. When I reached home, I found the house locked. Those were the days when cellphones were yet to become popular. So I immediately asked our neighbours where everyone was. They asked me to first sit down and have a glass of water before they told me that my daughter met with an accident.
Malavika was hardly one at that time. While my mother-in-law was moping the house, Malu threw a pen cap into the bucket of water and while reaching for it fell in and almost lost consiousness.
Fortunately, my mother-in-law was able to revive her and immediately rush her to hospital where the doctors put her under observation for the night.
And the incident must have happened around the time I was concerned about that street kid. We still can't explain what miracle happened to save our daughter. That was about nine years ago. Today, she is a 10 year old in her sixth grade always watching Miley Cyrus and Mr Bean and quite aware of Orkut and Facebook. And she is always concerned about her fellow human beings. Thank god!