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Curse

He was waiting by the side walk. Both his legs are deformed. He cannot walk, he literally slithered using his hands. He is a polio patient, the virus had squeezed the strength out of his legs. Yet he stands tall, fighting against all the odds and all the roadblocks life throws at him.

To him crossing a road is like to be climbing a mountain. He carries his bag in his mouth, by using his teeth, while crossing the road. People used to give him something as a token of sympathy. He accepts it without any complaints. His expression in turns shows he feels pity for this people, who shows sympathy towards him. I don't know anything about his family or whether he has got any? One thing for sure he is different from the likes of me, who still complains after a decent job, decent home to rest your head at night and more importantly have a family. Still it's not enough, we still search for something more, always. We never learned to be grateful. That's our curse. 

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