My Pity Parotta Story

Every time I see a parotta on my plate, its yummy-gummy smell invokes a wet, unfortunate, yet enlightening incident in my life that introduced me to this practical world. It happened on a fine afternoon when I was enthusiastically returning home from my college. I boarded the bus and reached the first stop from which I had to walk to the next stop to board another bus to my home. This is where the story begins….

 After getting smashed by an unreasonably hasty crowd on an unsurprisingly overcrowded city bus, I somehow managed to get out, battling my way through the onslaught of the on-boarders, who vigorously compete for the bus seat as it is strictly occupied on a first-come-first-basis – corruption not tolerated!

As I started to walk through the fruit market to the next bus stand, a droopy old man approached me. He was in terrible clothes, had a shabby old yellow bag in between his armpit, and stared with half-closed blackish eyes – almost looked as if he had forgotten to sleep for some hundred years. The moment I saw him, it invoked the utmost pity in me. Then he pleaded to me in a feeble old voice, “Child, I have not eaten for days. I came here from a nearby city in search of a job and ended up with none. I don't want your money. Buy me some food, child. You will be blessed. Please, please….”

Definitely, he touched my heart. That moment, Mother Teresa, Gandhi, and many national leaders flew across my mind, tingling my skin. So, I decided to help him and took him to a nearby hotel. I asked him to sit while I was standing near the counter to pay.

As I turned, I watched him approaching the food table. To my surprise, the once shaky legs and drooping body vanished. He strutted like a peacock towards the table. As he sat on the chair, his sleepless eyes got brightened. His shaky hands became steady. He just stylishly swung his wrist with a swagger of a superstar, making a trishul mudra showing three fingers. And with a firm voice, he ordered, “Three parottas.” For a moment, I wondered, “Was this the same feeble, saggy old man I met a few moments ago?” Little dazzled and confused, I paid for him and left for my home.

Then, I slowly narrated this whole incident to my father. I pointed out how that old man's sudden change in body language inside that hotel shocked me. I wasn't sure if I was deceived for showing mercy. Hearing all this, my father calmly replied, “My child, I'm glad you weren't kind enough to donate your clothes to him.” With a grin, he continued, “Welcome to the real world. You have a long way to go!”