|Photo from Goggle|
I call him Uncle Polio
Under the sweltering sun and dust, he was toiling and was yearning for someone to give him small pie of their share. Early morning crawling through Phuentsholing gate and staying near the pan shop for hours and hours was his way of life.
Although in that busy place, people hardly recognize him and gave small portion of their share. Yet he aspires that someone will give him something that can make his day.
I was seven when I saw him for the first time toiling in heat and in heavy monsoon. With my ‘Innocent Eye’ it was heart aching sight for me to see old pathetic man struggling for his survival.
Despite of all these bugging list of problems still his eye was a curtain with hopes and inspiration hiding the tears behind.
It was an awe-inspiring as his fragile hands were acting as his strong leg which stands in the crowd and helps to reach his destination. His palm was so rough even though he wears Bata slipper which was stitched from all the sides.
I still remember his affection and warmth showed towards me. We always meet during Sunday market where my dad takes pan from a shop where he helps in making pan. Though he starves for a meal yet he manages to give me ladoo (Indian sweet), indeed he knew it was my favorite.
That ladoo made our relation special and it’s been a decade away from him but I still remember him his gesture.
It was my result day and I remember giving him 50 paisa with full of wishes and prayers. It was just like we offer sum of amount in Lhakhangs except for the prostration.
My 50 paisa with true prayers, I was awarded with distinction position creating joviality among my friends and parent.
But deep in my heart I thanked him for making my wishes true. That little amount made our relation more precious.
Sadly, we lost communication as my dad was transferred to another place. We failed to correspond to each other, gradually time passed by and we were too busy in our lives.
On a fine day I and my family had a small gathering. We had a talk about him and his whereabouts.
Suddenly, my mother said that he died of pulmonary tuberculosis. She added that no one was there to take care of him even his own brother who worked as Engineer did not turn up to look after him.
Actually, he was the one to make his brother successful. He did all his expenditures by begging and working as others servant even though he was physically impaired.
I felt really bad for my uncle whom I do not have any idea about his name. I called him Uncle Polio. From him, I have learnt that sometimes being too good to others and even to our close ones is just a blunder.
However giving love and expecting the same love isn’t necessary. Love as much as we can, one day thousands of door of happiness will knock our door.