The Old man & the Street
Saba Khan Wandering around in the afternoon, I come across an old man, sitting in front of a house, which is supposedly his, but the wisdom of his age has made him understand, that nothing belongs to us in this world, not even our body. It’s just a temporary abode, granted to us for a while, to do our bit and then to leave, sooner or later, towards a permanent dwelling, which we often underestimate. The man sits on the edge of a tall platform, cross legged, head down, arms folded, hands in his lap, thinking, lifting his head occasionally when a couple of children run by his side, cheerful, laughing. He pats their heads and provides them with sweets from his pocket. Perhaps, the joy of the children is infective, he smiles and shakes his head, perhaps a window of his own childhood has opened, through which he can see how it was to be a school boy, perhaps he misses his mother then, the light house of our childhood. I follow that route daily, during my evening walk. Just to have a glimpse...
