“Very well, sir! Follow me.”

The concierge led Simon upstairs and into a diminutive room. There was a small television set in the corner as well as a coffee table. A single bed sat opposite the door, springs sticking out from underneath. A door next to the bed led to the kitchen, a somewhat larger room then the bedroom. It contained the basic necessities such as a sink and a fridge. Another door led from the kitchen to the bathroom. There was an old, metal toilet in the corner and a shower on the opposite side. Dr March thanked the doorman and sat down on the metal framed bed. What he needed the most after a long day’s travel was a good rest. He was thinking blissfully about his luxury home back in England when he drifted into sleep.

Simon woke up with a start. At first he was confused, but as he absorbed his surroundings, it all came rushing back to him. He was stuck in India for a whole week to help out at the (local hospital). He sighed despondently and climbed out of bed. He changed into his ordinary suit and tie and quickly left for work. As he stepped outside, he tried to block out the unbearable noise but it proved impossible. Cars, trucks, buses and vehicles were all roaring down the busy city road. There were loud beeps and honks everywhere. Dr March swiftly signalled for a rickshaw. A bright yellow one screeched to a halt in front of him. He climbed in and hastily told the driver he needed to get to (local hospital). The small motorised cart sped forwards and merged with the rest of the traffic.

Dr March gazed-through the space where a door should be-at a cluster of homeless people trying to construct themselves a home. Watching those people made him feel a great sense of compassion and sympathy. He thought about how fortunate he was. These people had no food or medicine. He had everything. A sense of shame washed over him. These people were struggling and he was living a life without limits. Before he knew it, he had arrived at the hospital. He distractedly paid the driver and climbed out of the rickshaw. He watched as it drove away, leaving a plume of smoke behind.

He hadn’t been able to concentrate properly the whole day. His mind kept being pulled back to the slums and the people who lived in them. As he left the purity and cleanliness of the hospital’s white walls, he decided he wanted to see the slums again. He asked specifically for the rickshaw driver to take him to the same spot as before. As he arrived, he saw that they were nearly finished building the “house”. A crowd of children ran toward him as fast as they could, with the little energy they had. Simon hastily gave a couple of notes to the struggling children and pushed through the crowd, being careful not to push anyone over. When he finally managed to force his way to the adults, he saw that they were bony and sickly looking. There were flies crawling over them and they desperately needed food. Dr March could help these people…

India isn’t so bad, Dr March thought to himself, once you become attained with the smell. A sulphurous smell constantly lingered around the slums, mixed with decaying, roadside faeces. He walked out of the hospital with his head held high. He had managed to save the lives of four people. He walked home to his apartment a few streets away from the luxurious hotel, which had been funded by his superiors in England. When he arrived home he was thinking about how fortunate he was to live in India.