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The Rag-picker And The Boy
As she walked down the bustling streets of Delhi, picking pieces of paper, rags, bottles...she always noticed the way people looked at her; with contempt, with disgust...some with pity, and some with lust. She would just shake her head, put on a smile- and would continue to walk- doing what she had always done; pick up the garbage to sell, so she could fill her stomach. What the world saw, what they thought wasn't of much consequence, her hunger, her need mattered the most.
No one knew her name, she was an anathema, just like thousands of others like her, walking the busy streets of Delhi, scavenging what they could, living a life no one wants to live willingly.
As she walked, she came across a food joint, the smell of fried chicken wafting across, engulfing her senses, reminding her that she hadn't had anything to eat all day. She paused...took a deep breath to breathe in the aroma- then regretting it because it made her even hungrier.
She just stood there, looking at the source of that beautiful smell. She didn't have any money for food yet, even if she did, she wouldn't be allowed in- but...she could at least go and get something to eat somewhere else and not feel what she was feeling in the pit of her stomach.
She smiled...reluctantly took a step...then another- she began her walk through the street again.
After a while, she felt a little tired and stopped again. There was a stone bench at the side of the street she was on- she slowly walked to it, dragging her sack of trash, reached the stone bench and sat down, putting her treasure in front of her. She started to daydream...
"Hey miss"!
She slowly turned her head towards the voice. A boy, a young boy, standing couple of feet from her with a cardboard box in his hand, a genuine smile on his young face.
"Would you like to have something to eat with me"? He asked in a kind voice, keeping his face lit with his smile.
"Yes please"! She replied.
"Do you mind if I sit on the bench"? He asked her- never letting go of his smile.
She started to get up, but he extended his hand, his palm out...
"Please...sit...I will sit on the other end of the bench. If it's okay with you? He looked at her questioningly, waiting for her response.
She slowly sat back down, eying the box of food in his hand.
He walked to the bench and sat down next to her- then he opened the box...and the smell of fried chicken engulfed her senses for the second time that day.
He asked her to take some- and she did. He took a piece himself and they started eating. People walking past looked at them- a sight that was semi-rare, but you could see it every once in a while in the streets of Delhi.
They were mostly silent as they ate; occasionally, the boy would say something in English, some of which she understood, some she didn't, but there was kindness in his voice, something capable of crossing the language barrier and reaching anyone who was looking...who was listening.
After the food was over, he crumpled up the box, discarded it in the bin nearby, thanked her for keeping him company- and walked away, waving his hand at her as he disappeared in the crowds of Delhi.
© havoc
#kindness #ragpicker #delhi #streets #Empath #Empathy #microtale #microfiction
No one knew her name, she was an anathema, just like thousands of others like her, walking the busy streets of Delhi, scavenging what they could, living a life no one wants to live willingly.
As she walked, she came across a food joint, the smell of fried chicken wafting across, engulfing her senses, reminding her that she hadn't had anything to eat all day. She paused...took a deep breath to breathe in the aroma- then regretting it because it made her even hungrier.
She just stood there, looking at the source of that beautiful smell. She didn't have any money for food yet, even if she did, she wouldn't be allowed in- but...she could at least go and get something to eat somewhere else and not feel what she was feeling in the pit of her stomach.
She smiled...reluctantly took a step...then another- she began her walk through the street again.
After a while, she felt a little tired and stopped again. There was a stone bench at the side of the street she was on- she slowly walked to it, dragging her sack of trash, reached the stone bench and sat down, putting her treasure in front of her. She started to daydream...
"Hey miss"!
She slowly turned her head towards the voice. A boy, a young boy, standing couple of feet from her with a cardboard box in his hand, a genuine smile on his young face.
"Would you like to have something to eat with me"? He asked in a kind voice, keeping his face lit with his smile.
"Yes please"! She replied.
"Do you mind if I sit on the bench"? He asked her- never letting go of his smile.
She started to get up, but he extended his hand, his palm out...
"Please...sit...I will sit on the other end of the bench. If it's okay with you? He looked at her questioningly, waiting for her response.
She slowly sat back down, eying the box of food in his hand.
He walked to the bench and sat down next to her- then he opened the box...and the smell of fried chicken engulfed her senses for the second time that day.
He asked her to take some- and she did. He took a piece himself and they started eating. People walking past looked at them- a sight that was semi-rare, but you could see it every once in a while in the streets of Delhi.
They were mostly silent as they ate; occasionally, the boy would say something in English, some of which she understood, some she didn't, but there was kindness in his voice, something capable of crossing the language barrier and reaching anyone who was looking...who was listening.
After the food was over, he crumpled up the box, discarded it in the bin nearby, thanked her for keeping him company- and walked away, waving his hand at her as he disappeared in the crowds of Delhi.
© havoc
#kindness #ragpicker #delhi #streets #Empath #Empathy #microtale #microfiction
