She was old and frail, with an arched back. She drew her scarf over her forehead as she waited. When she raised the palm of her right hand over her squinty black eyes to shield herself from the mid-day heat, the long, loose sleeves of her abaya slipped to the sweaty valley at the end of the forearm, and revealed a hard, brown, bony hand. The other arm was struggling to carry big, bulky bags of old clothes she'd gathered from her begging rounds.
She was exhausted. She had left her sickly children back at home earlier during the day, and had visited some fifty houses or so in under two hours. Some turned her out. Most of them didn't even bother opening their doors for her. But still, she always found one or two houses with sympathetic folks who would acknowledge her presence with a rupee or two. She always left a prayer for them.
Today, however, was not a very good day. Although she had managed to get a few old clothes for her children, she was too tired to continue her long and unwinding walk back home, what with her swollen feet and the blazing heat. She had enough change in her handkerchief to spare her an autorickshaw ride for about half the way home. The other half...she'd think about that later. It was too hot to think. She was feeling dizzy from hunger and thirst too.
An autorickshaw was whirring its way towards her. She picked up her bulky bags, and raised a bony hand to hail it. The driver took one look at her, and sped by. She refused to take offense.
Another autorickshaw refused to take her, and yet another. They seemed to have no trouble offering their service to well-off families or other individuals with bulky shopping bags, though.
The heat was starting to get worse, just as the sharp pain in her back and heels.
After an hour of waiting, she decided she was wasting her time and energy. The old, frail woman with the arched back picked up her bulky bags of worn out clothes, and began her journey back home with swollen feet and aching arms, under the blazing heat of the sun, muttering to herself:
for my children...I must not collapse for the sake of my children...
She was exhausted. She had left her sickly children back at home earlier during the day, and had visited some fifty houses or so in under two hours. Some turned her out. Most of them didn't even bother opening their doors for her. But still, she always found one or two houses with sympathetic folks who would acknowledge her presence with a rupee or two. She always left a prayer for them.
Today, however, was not a very good day. Although she had managed to get a few old clothes for her children, she was too tired to continue her long and unwinding walk back home, what with her swollen feet and the blazing heat. She had enough change in her handkerchief to spare her an autorickshaw ride for about half the way home. The other half...she'd think about that later. It was too hot to think. She was feeling dizzy from hunger and thirst too.
An autorickshaw was whirring its way towards her. She picked up her bulky bags, and raised a bony hand to hail it. The driver took one look at her, and sped by. She refused to take offense.
Another autorickshaw refused to take her, and yet another. They seemed to have no trouble offering their service to well-off families or other individuals with bulky shopping bags, though.
The heat was starting to get worse, just as the sharp pain in her back and heels.
After an hour of waiting, she decided she was wasting her time and energy. The old, frail woman with the arched back picked up her bulky bags of worn out clothes, and began her journey back home with swollen feet and aching arms, under the blazing heat of the sun, muttering to herself:
for my children...I must not collapse for the sake of my children...
