Published in The Dawn Magazine
on July 13, 1997
You are driving to work when some people stop you. A man has been seriously injured, could you please take him to the hospital? And being the fool you are, you agree. After all, your father spent a fortune on your schooling, and you were taught that it's your duty to help your fellow beings. And after you've got the unconscious man admitted, a couple of cops want to arrest you for injuring him.
You try to explain that it wasn't you who did it, someone else ran into the man and drove away, but all they're interested in is your monthly income. Pay now and escape, they urge, or you'll regret it. You remember that the current DIG was your class-fellow in school, but they laugh when you tell this to them. You know that if they take you to the police station they'll make you confess to the murder of the first prime minister of the country. It seems hopeless, and you are about to begin negotiations when you see someone you know. He's a senior doctor at the hospital.
You call out, he comes over and you explain what has happened. He goes with you and the cops to the scene of the accident. There's a panwala (The shop keeper who sells tobacco) there who remembers what happened. A rickshaw had run into the man, he says, and this gentleman (pointing towards you) had kindly agreed to take him to the hospital. The cops look like children who've lost their pocket money. You swear you'll never get involved again. 
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