A man's Providence

It was a rainy July afternoon. After a few day’s of false promises, the rains did come, a much needed respite for the city grilling under the sweltering heat waves. The downpour had just started and the people who had ventured out of their homes, not prepared for the abrupt mood change of the weather god, were running hither and thither for refuge. On one such street, a poor beggar stood, getting helplessly drenched in the rain, flabbergasted by the sudden change of affairs. He couldn’t afford the opulence of an umbrella and the already overpopulated shops nearby were too jam-packed to offer him a shelter. He stood at a forlorn corner of the lane wishing the rain would shortly subside. Just then he heard a deep masculine voice addressing him” Young man, you are getting soaked! Do come under my umbrella. It is large enough to house both of us!” The vagabond looked up startled at the unprecedented sign of help, to find a huge lofty man, about his age, signs of affluence clearly visible on his self. He wore a tailor made suit with a gold watch peeping from one of his suit pockets.” I am waiting for my car and would be pleased to be of your assistance”. They began there conversation and chatted candidly for a while. Suddenly the beggar, after a moment or two of tentative contemplation uttered “Many years ago I had the same prosperity that you have now. Do you remember the blasts that happened on this avenue a few years back? Well, my bakery was just near the site where the bomb was planted. The shop was completely devastated and so was my life. My family and I managed to survive but got itinerant after that. God’s been very ruthless on me. I have lost everything and now this street has become my abode. I am reduced to nothing but a poor beggar . You are lucky that you didn’t have a similar fate”. So saying he burst out howling. The shower had finally stopped and the rich man’s chauffeured white car was waiting. He took out a thousand dollar bill from his wallet and handed it over to the poor man. “I lost my family and both my legs in the same blast. I somehow struggled hard enough to reach where I am now. The legs that you see me walking on are fake. You make your own destiny; your destiny doesn’t make you”. Saying this, the wealthy gentleman left for his car. Even hours after the man had left, the beggar couldn’t budge. He stood at the same bend of the street too stunned even to weep.