A walk to work, a communion with a city

I walk to work every day. It is hardly a kilometre from home, a 10-minute stroll, 15 if I take it easy. Yet I seldom come across anyone else covering even this short distance on foot. Most schoolchildren are shuttled in vans or deposited at the gate by parents on scooters, their sleepy heads nodding, their school bags seeming almost heavier than their small frames.

Now and then, someone I know slows their vehicle beside me and offers a lift. I smile, shake my head, and thank them. They drive off, a little puzzled perhaps. A passing bus sometimes eases its pace, its conductor waving at me to hop in. Even autorickshaw drivers pause briefly, certain I must be waiting for a ride. I wave them on too.