I met him today. He was in the middle of the road. He was wandering. Something told me he was guided by a spirit. If it was two years back in my life, I would have started praying for the devil to go out of him. But today I would not be recreating the past. So I decided to silently watch him. He was dressed up in tatters, his loose and ragged clothing clinging around. Hair all dirty with dust and grime.
He had the story written over his face. The story of a Vagabond. The story of a man who has lost a good, mental hygiene. And he carried even the other miserable people's tales. Yet he a rich golden smile.
With pity in my heart, I took out a tenner from my pocket and tried to hand it over. He denied. I knew he would have been hungry, yet he did not want my help. Was he used to it ? Not taking help or asking money ? Or did he want to share something with me ? Was he trying to say that God was with him, not just with a Pastor. Did he know about me or something inside him said, that I was the false shepherd ? A lying, unworthy Prophet of no use. Was he expressing his sad views about money ?
The clouds in the sky, wore a wornout look. They had shed all the rain, in some far of place. The man standing in the balcony was gazing at the sky. Was it at the feathery white clouds ? And then I saw. It was like a black thunder. A blackish blue illuminated appearance of a man, just behind the clouds. Whatever it was, it was crossing the horizon very fast. There was a strange shine all around him. I wanted to take a picture. But it was gone before I could switch on my phone's camera.
Down in the city square, was an old banyan tree. It was the hub for all, the tired and the idlers. Overhead, the chirping of the birds made a soothing music. There were quite a lot of them, and in varying shapes, colours and sizes. Each had a story to tell.
He crossed the fire to save the little child inside the hospital building. He could still feel the burning sensation in his limbs. While pulling apart the burning material, his limbs had come in contact with the limbs. But now thete was no time to look at the burns. He had to save the baby. He lifted him from the cradle and came near the window. The fire engines had arrived. They saw him and started raising the ladders. In another ten minutes, he was on safe grounds. He handed over the child to his mother.
Michael was not born like this. He was different. It was the most respected family in town. Michael came to be a part of this family in the summer of sixties. He was the most loved child in the neighborhood. He had lots of friends. His father was a big businessman. He had lots of trading firms, dealing in various commodities and services. The other business houses often invited him to their get together parties just to get a profitable tip from him. Everything was going fine till one sad day, when the fire broke out. It was the end of all good days. The fire had finished Michael's family. And it didn't stop at that. Michael suffered from burn injuries which led to his mental illness.