And so, here was this child. Wrapped in soft woollens. Only tiny fingers visible besides two curious eyes, plump cheeks,  little red lips and a notional nose. Cushioned in an adult's lap, all set to cross the road in the morning, the pair of inquisitive eyes surveyed the abnormal rush of two-legged beings and innumerable vehicles around. How difficult to accept a possibility of that head covered in a red striped pom pom cap turning so strong one day so as to believe that nothing exists in the world outside its knowledge. To imagine that those tiny fingers might turn into fists clutching sharpness which will call for blood. To think that those little lips might one day utter words to injure another's dignity. To see that those feet hidden in pink booties may one day emerge as determined to trample ruthlessly everything which gets in their way to their destination. How sad is it to accept that the story of each perpetrator of violence must have begun one day as a vulnerable being weighing little more than three kilos... Attachments vital, connections human, are ripped off thoughtlessly, all through life and then they say, the umbilical cord is cut off just once - as if childbirth was all about body and biology!