Echoes in Joy and in Ashes

I saw him once by the path running between the row of houses playing with his friends - a seller stones and leaves. The people passing by paid little attention to these little merchant and buyers of stones and leaves and they in turn did not bother the big ones. I guess all they wanted were "little customers" just like them who would know the worth and bargain for their "precious merchandise." They carried on their merry play in that narrow lane and perhaps till dark until they were called home. Then again there he was as I walked home through that lane, all by himself with a piece of wood for a sword battling imaginary foes. Slashing the bushes and the hitting the rocks he carried on his battle and reminded me of my own little battles in the backyard just like him. The lid of a tin-container was a "strong and mighty shield," a broad piece of wood was a "sword," a long piece of bamboo with a pointed end was a "lance." Bushes were cut...

He was just a boy on the bus, calling out to people to get on board. His eyes counted the empty seats and his voice called out for people to fill them up. I watched as he checked to see all the seats were taken and then he called out to the driver to start the bus. The trip to the town began and he came around collecting the fares - little hands gripping the bills and the coins inspecting the bills carefully and returning changes. He did it with ease, after all he was used to it. I couldn't but help think about this little boy as I watched him from my seat. Perhaps another of his age would have been delighted to go on such a ride. Another would have loved the sights of the "world" passing by but this boy kept his eyes on his little hands with the fares and the change. What might have been a delight to another was to him a routine. He will step down not because he has reached his destination but a stop to let people down and take in others. The youngest on board, he w...