The Voice of Silence

For more than two years (2020–2021), the monstrous "Corona Virus" mercilessly devoured millions of lives around the planet. Life's pulsation came to a halt. People saw all the things they could never have imagined. Existential dangers confront millions of businesses. Over half of the 3.3 billion people employed worldwide are a risk to their livelihood. Because the majority do not have access to social safety, high-quality healthcare, or productive assets, informal economy employees are especially vulnerable.

Many people cannot provide for their families food needs during lockdowns because they lack the means of earning a wage. Most people who lack funds cannot eat, or at best, can only eat less food that is less nutrient-dense. From an offline to an online format, the teaching approach was changed.

A new narrative began after two years. Gradually, everyday life began, and schooling was once again conducted offline.

I used to pass a beggar on the way to school every day. He was hiding in a shady spot on the sidewalk directly in front of my school. He gradually immersed himself in my school life as the days went by. The beggar would beg for alms from anybody who passed him as they passed by. As a result, whenever my parents went to pick me up from school, they complied with my request and assisted the beggar by giving him money or purchasing some light fare like cake or cookies. While doing so, I occasionally even spoke to him and learned his name was "Babulal." He had ragged clothing on and was a very skinny man.

His right eyebrow was scarred severely, and he had salt-and-pepper hair. He would bless me profusely sometimes, even after I handed him my lunch. I occasionally glanced out the window during the tiffin break to see Babulal.

One day, while walking back from school, I saw that the sky was covered in black clouds, and after a few seconds, it began to severely rain, leaving me soaked. I had a high temperature for the next few days, so I couldn't go to school. When I returned to school after a few days, I was shocked to find that Babulal was gone. I had to hurriedly get to my school because there wasn't much time. I learned that day that the beggar was no longer visible to my buddy "Shreyansh".

I inquired out of burning interest, "How is the homeless person doing now? Where is he?" I don't know, too, Shreyansh retorted. The security uncle, though, might be able to help. After taking his advice, we somehow managed to complete our tiffin, and we quickly moved in the direction of the security officer. Are you familiar with Babulal, Uncle? I questioned him. He mumbled, "B-a-b-u-l-a?," doubtfully. I explained to him that I meant the beggar. How is he doing now? He said, "While you were away, he grew unwell owing to a high temperature and was transferred to the neighboring hospital," sighing. Unfortunately, he is no longer with us. I was really shaken, which horrified me. His recollections appeared to be moving in circles throughout.

I felt surrounded by all the pleasant memories of eating tiffin together, giving him some cash, and providing him with a blanket on chilly winter nights. I just believed that we both had fevers, but I was able to recover from mine because of my family's unwavering love, care, and warmth, but he was unable to do so because of their total lack.

My recovery from this experience took a long time. The visage of Babulal is now also clearly in my mind. Peace be upon his soul.