“My mom sometimes says that I eat like rickshaw pullers,” Rifat told me as he was eating something (I can’t remember what or if I was eating too).
“And you know what?” he continued talking “I’ve seen some of these rickshaw pullers, and they eat with a lot more care than any of we do.”
We were in Rifat’s room; Sitting on the floor with the laptop in front of us as usual. He just finished telling me what an awful job I did with my last business card design. I was a tad disappointed, but not really surprised. And I had to digest that review because he is one of the few people who I can trust with giving an honest opinion on my work. And I was not going to change him not by being all off-mood so the next time I ask for an opinion he knows better than to give an honest one.
So I asked with interest, “Is that right?”
“Yes! I’ve seen them eat, and they do it with more sincerity, and after they are done you won’t see food remains all the way up to the joints of all the fingers.”
“Well all I know is they eat a lot of rice…” I remarked for the sake of it.
“Well some of the poor people can’t even eat much when they get the chance. The other day I took an old beggar to a restaurant, I asked him to eat whatever he wanted. And in the end the bill was just 18 tk.”
I was pleasantly surprised with this part of the story I must admit. “Wait! You took a beggar into a restaurant? Do you do that often?”
“Actually I try to help one such person a day.”
“Nice! What else did you do in the last few days?”
“Well today I helped a blind man cross the street. I saw him on one side of the road, I crossed, went over to him and asked him where he was trying to go and helped him a bit.”
“Okay… you were telling me about a beggar. What type of restaurant did you take him to?”
“Simple one, selling puri, kebab and such things… it was in the afternoon. And this man just won’t say what he wanted to eat. It seemed it was really difficult for him.”
“Ahhare… maybe he was in shock of getting such an offer. Do you think these people get such offer often?”
“No idea.” Rifat replied.
This was a little portion of what we talked about that day… I am writing it down because I thought there are some good deeds that should be remembered even if they have no hopes of making it to the newspapers or public recognition. May his strange habit live long and prosper.
It may not be of much importance to me, but at least for a while, for one afternoon, my friend mattered to someone other than himself, very much. And I would really like that feeling.
“And you know what?” he continued talking “I’ve seen some of these rickshaw pullers, and they eat with a lot more care than any of we do.”
We were in Rifat’s room; Sitting on the floor with the laptop in front of us as usual. He just finished telling me what an awful job I did with my last business card design. I was a tad disappointed, but not really surprised. And I had to digest that review because he is one of the few people who I can trust with giving an honest opinion on my work. And I was not going to change him not by being all off-mood so the next time I ask for an opinion he knows better than to give an honest one.
So I asked with interest, “Is that right?”
“Yes! I’ve seen them eat, and they do it with more sincerity, and after they are done you won’t see food remains all the way up to the joints of all the fingers.”
“Well all I know is they eat a lot of rice…” I remarked for the sake of it.
“Well some of the poor people can’t even eat much when they get the chance. The other day I took an old beggar to a restaurant, I asked him to eat whatever he wanted. And in the end the bill was just 18 tk.”
 |
| eirian-stock.deviantart.com |
“Actually I try to help one such person a day.”
“Nice! What else did you do in the last few days?”
“Well today I helped a blind man cross the street. I saw him on one side of the road, I crossed, went over to him and asked him where he was trying to go and helped him a bit.”
“Okay… you were telling me about a beggar. What type of restaurant did you take him to?”
“Simple one, selling puri, kebab and such things… it was in the afternoon. And this man just won’t say what he wanted to eat. It seemed it was really difficult for him.”
“No idea.” Rifat replied.
This was a little portion of what we talked about that day… I am writing it down because I thought there are some good deeds that should be remembered even if they have no hopes of making it to the newspapers or public recognition. May his strange habit live long and prosper.
The purpose of life is not to be happy - but to matter, to be productive, to be useful, to have it make some difference that you have lived at all.
~Leo Rosten
It may not be of much importance to me, but at least for a while, for one afternoon, my friend mattered to someone other than himself, very much. And I would really like that feeling.