His eyes were filled with water. I just had a glimpse of his current situation. Ì really don’t know what had happened in his past that might have forced him to stand in the thunderstorm and sell small things. The small things which most of the people wouldn’t buy. The people which are bound to “status symbol” thing. And the people like me won’t buy because of the thought what will my friends say. And some will not buy saying I don’t need it.
All what he was in need was, few pieces of paper. The paper with some digits on it. And a bald man as it’s value. That piece of paper which is called as RUPEE in India.
There was a rush of cars, busses, people and the shopkeepers. And there was a rush of a piece of paper in my mind which I hadn’t struggled to get, yet!
He was almost 60 in his age. While managing the stuff in his hands, he was requesting every person to buy something. I have seen many other people in the same condition, But have never seen anyone with wet eyes.
I too passed by along with my friends as everyone else did. A silence is still screaming in my mind. The silence of a common man, which is suppressed by value of a Paper.