This wet morning I was driving home to a very thin traffic.
Only few office goers briskly walking to the station, when I saw silhouette of
a hooded man in light incessant drizzle, carrying a massive bag slung over his
shoulder. Immediately a thought occurred
to me, rag picker and drug user. Another voice rose in my head and chastised roundly
this reflex thinking…. Who are we to
judge? This guy most likely has no other talent, even if he did he never got
round to sharpen it besides to make use of your talent a guy needs opportunity perhaps
he never was in right place at the right time…... so he chose this vocation, a
dreary, boring tedious job that pays very little; so little that it destroys “Hope”.
Without hope we do not make effort so this fellow lives on the fringe most of
the time rummaging through leftover, picking copious amount of disposed plastic
punched them flat and filling his bag …
What does he hope for after day long ordeal; pushed around
by authority, derided by better off people and tired to very core of his bones!
He seeks nirvana in fantasy, why grudge him his few moments of nirvana?
“Give him hope or shut up” I tell the wise guy in my head.
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