Invisible man

Everyday I come across three men. These three different looking men, though have something in common amongst them, stir different kind thoughts in my mind. These three men – all in the latter years of their lives – are homeless. At times I’ve heared one of them, who stands outside the subway station exit, murmering a feeble and barely audible “some change please“. He can be seen outside the station both in the morning as well as in the evening. The second one stands accross the road from subway station near the cafe, holding a placard that reads something which says he’s living with AIDS. And there’s the third one who has some strange serene glow on his face – perhaps because of his white beard. He keeps on holding out his cup with both hands and his head and eyes lowered and kind of lost in some deep meditation. My heart cries when I think about the pain each one these men must have gone through while their ego was crushed and they have to force themselves to beg. People move in front them as if these men were invisible. It makes me feel very sad when I think about such helpless people.

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