Weak and tired br days of hardwork telling br his feet failing him br ah! then he flopped br down on the road br as he walked br br nothing stopped br not a single car nor bus br no man rushing to his office br no child to his school br not a single loitering fellow br not even the policeman who watched br br save the youngman on the bicycle br who rode ahead br but kept looking behind br and then came to the man lying br bending down with a warm smile br and a grieving heart br br first bending to br to pick up things scattered br holding then the poor hands groping for help br smilingly held the torn bag of cloth br the tiffin box peeping out br a companion of many years br br walking him to a shade br holding a bottle of water for the thirsty br he stayed on, unhurried, patient br as the bewidered pour soul br held his yellow printed cloth bag close br he simply smiled reassurance br br and then when they parted ways br the poor worker wondered br at the bicycle boy and his benevolence br knowing well what he knew by experience br how he deserved to be treated br his poverty was his curse br br he joined hands to thank no one in particular... br he didnt know he had just met a signpost of god.