Symbol of new life

Source
My story

That man had hit her so hard like she was evil, she fell like a bag on the tarmac.

His face, a dark grim mask, as he turned and walked away like he had just done the world a favor by hurting that little amajiri for asking him for money, she stood with an effort, and pain written all over her tired face, then her gaze met mine, she made towards me.

I let her. Maybe on other days, I might not have. But damn, she's human too.

I was stained with the sorrow of a child that needed to survive, as her dirty hands wrapped around my waist, so tight as if her life was threatened, and she made me believe I could protect her from everything painful, looking at her cracked bare feet, I could tell they burned.

Her eyes pleading, her pupils glassy with tears and I wondered what that man actually saw. Or why?

My heart ached as I levelled my gaze down at this little girl, her hair as old as history, caked with grim, dust and anything else, she badly needed a nice warm shower, a change of dress perhaps, her jersey seemed like the only cloth her skin ever knew.

I saw no evil. I saw a survivor.

"Give me to eat" she managed with a wavering monotone.

She deserved a proper meal, I took her to an expensive restaurant, and made her to know she was human too, and no one was any better than her.

The road being her father, her mother, and the whole lot of little children begging on the road, when they did not know anything called love. Nobody ever loved them, nobody ever protected them, they don't know where to get medication if they get sick. I doubt if they even know their birth fathers, and their mothers as irresponsible as their own mothers.