After having lunch as I picked a newspaper for reading, I
saw a young man seated beside me. He was tall, slim and dark with vermilion on
his forehead. I saw that the poor chap had a broken wrist. He had plaster
wrapped around it.
He was in hurry. He was calling a few people from my company from his mobile phone and was asking them in broken English to collect their parcels. He was fiddling nervously with the electronic equipment that's used to get the receiver's signatures. He carried a big bag with scores of parcels in it.
I felt sorry for the young man. He would have taken so much
pain to reach here, with his broken hand and a heavy bag. Looking at his
furrowed brows one could easily tell that he still has a lot of unfinished
business before he calls it a day. He may even not have had his lunch still,
tough it is over 30 mins past 2. He would have so many pressing problems back
home that he was working without even caring for his broken wrist.
1 comment:
this is what they call as compassion :)
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