His mother was insane. She died even before he was one year old, leaving him on the footpath.
Someone picked him up, took him home, became his father. He got a new mother. She had six children to raise, she did what she could to feed them by working at nearby houses. She protected him with the ferocity of a tigress when people ridiculed him.
He grew up with a slur.
He went to school, the cheapest one in town. And dropped out when he was ten, when his elder brother wanted him to earn his keep.
He became a mechanic in one of the the little garages that serviced scooters.
He learned. Someone who ran a bigger garage noticed. He was sent for training, with a better job on return.
He would not smoke, nor drink, nor go out with friends. But he would watch every movie that came to town. When people assigned him new nicknames, he smiled.
Someone arranged him a loan to start a garage on his own. He started one in a thatched shed next to his house. It grew.
His step-brothers were jealous. They wanted their share. He took another loan and paid them. They left to new pastures.
They did not want to take their parents with them. He did not want to let them go either.
He does not live in a tear-jerking script. He repairs real scooters. He watches real movies. He feeds his old parents.
He is my friend. I am proud.
He is not a millionaire. He would never be.
But our society needs more like him. Our economy too.
He would never read this post.
The End.
Thanks for sharing that inspiring piece.I jus loved it. More because it is a story from the other world, the world that we take for granted…until and unless, a windfall happens in their lives, or a calamity ravages their lives…then, we’ll see boxed “human-interest” pieces with all that spice we love. Thanks for narrating a wonderful life, in such simple words!