In the bright rude lights of my headlamps, i catch unsuspecting moments. I feel like an intruder. An outsider with a very bright torch. Pointing it where and when i please. Impolite. And inquisitive.

I see a man bathing, a boy studying, a woman cooking. I try to imagine that the lights are welcome. Like a beacon. Helping the man see how much water he has left in his bucket, helping the boy to read that important sentence clearly, and the woman see the colour of the daal she's cooking. Sometimes, i'm helping an old lady find her glasses. Sometimes i help a man cheat at cards. Sometimes an old gent on a charpoy doesn't have to strain his eyes to read the paper. Sometimes i catch a laugh. Sometimes a tear. Sometimes the kids find the ball. And the girls find the boys looking. And the boys see the girls eyes. Sometimes the mother sees the boy and girl together. Somebody finds their chappals. Somebody else finds they've lost theirs. Sometimes a little girl gets to see the colour of her shit. And a boy gets to jump out of the way of a giant rat.

From the safety of my car, i wonder if i helped.