The Old Man

The old man walked through the street, without any aid. He walked at a pace that belied his age. He walked while bypassing the potholes and the vendors. His action was swift and his gait was calm. He looked untroubled by his age or by the distance he covered. Clad in white, with a white beard and white mane, he walked through the streets with every soul engaged in an awkward stare. No one knew where he was headed, and no one knew where he was from. But all hesitated to ask him, for he was walking at a great pace, and they didn’t want to stall him. His feet were bare, covered with mud. They were bleeding at some places, and healing at others.

 

And just as he entered another street, a little girl ran up to him. She held something in her little hands. She stopped in front of the old man, and placed at his feet a pair of slippers. The old man stopped, and it was clear that his eyes moistened. For when he spoke, it was with great joy that his voice stuttered. He lifted the little girl and kissed her on her cheek. Then he sat her down on a bale of hay. She sneezed the smallest sneeze anyone ever saw. The old man smiled, and looked kindly.

 

“My dear child! I have walked through cities; I have walked through forests; I have walked on the banks of the Nile, and through the valleys of the Himalayas; I have walked through the sands of Arabia, and through the fields of England. I have seen kingdoms rise and kingdoms fall. I have seen brutal wars and dangerous fights. I have seen the plots of the mischievous man, and the glint of the evil eye. I have seen man at his basest, at his cruellest. I have seen these for a thousand years and more. It is with remorse that people ask me why I do live despite having been witness to the massacres that man brought. Do you know why?”, the old man asked. And as he asked this question, he raised his voice so that it reached the farthest corners of the village. The people gathered to witness this spectacle created by the old man. Some murmured. Some shouted. Some clamoured for the answer. Some declared him a mad man.

 

“It is true”, continued the old man. “It is true that I have witnessed man at his worst. It is true that this heart has endured such cruelty. But all the evil that man has brought is wiped from my heart by such deeds as you have done, my child. It is true that man is capable of intense evil. But it is also true that man is capable of the kindest deeds. These acts of good, though sparse and scarce, have healed this heart. They have made it impervious to the poison that abounds in the world. Why do I live? I live to see such people as you”, said the old man.

 

So saying, he kissed the forehead of the little girl, then lifted her and stood her on the ground. He bade her goodbye, and strode off in his newly acquired pair of slippers. “He is a mad man”, murmured someone. “He is an angel”, murmured another. “He is a good man”, said the little girl. The old man smiled and swept a drop of tear from his eye, and continued walking into the horizon.

Reviews

[Archia]

Oh that's wonderful, truly wonderful. I loved the first time the old man spoke and how he passed through all these things he had done. "“He is a good man”, said the little girl." I love the simplicity in that line and how because it makes it everything but simple. There's even a lesson to be learnt in this. This was truly beautiful, and I think you really underestimate yourself.

[AK]

Very nice story! I liked the way it started and ended. Just one thing, I think in the last paragraph, I would have preferred a stronger word than 'said' from the young girl saying that the old man was good. As she is about the main character amonst the three commenting on him, the verb you use for her should be stronger than the others?
Have a good day!
Akanksha Suresh