Compassion?

After settling into the tattered seat of the bus earlier today, a lady seated behind me stood up, and started to mutter a hackneyed sermon which I'm sure everyone is familiar about. She was one of those people who randomly starts to preach about the Bible, often quoting from the books of Ecclesiastics and Revelations. I'm not sure what religious sect she belonged to, but she sounded as if she truly believed in what she was saying and doing. Yes, her voice still had little hints of doubt, probably coming from the uncertainty whether passengers would listen to her, but her voice still resonated with a tone of dedication and faith. With no other form of entertainment inside the vehicle, I started to listen to the lady, but the bus was too noisy for me to hear her clearly. Despite this, I distinctly remember hearing her pray twice: first for a safe trip, and the other for the concupiscence of the humankind.

What followed was of course, she handing out white envelopes to the other passengers, against their will or not. However, my ride was over; I hastily descended the steps of the bus covered in the pungent odor of stale water, and hurried towards my office building.

I tried to listen to the lady's words out of care and compassion, but it wasn't the same compassion I felt for the poor waif and her children. The difference did not lie because she was well dressed and the other was in worn out, bemire clothing; it had something to do with the lingering thought I was left with.

After seeing the small scene inside the bus, I felt most lackadaisical. Honestly, it was saddening to put a languorous mood on such a wonderful, sunny day.

Sigh. The facts of life, I guess?