He placed it all on the newspaper. ₹120. Almost half his phone case.
Rohan stopped.
Munna stared. He didn’t understand. Rich people didn’t kneel. He touched the money, then touched Rohan’s shoes. “Sir, your shoes are dirty now.”
He knelt down on the dusty pavement, scuffing his perfect white shoes. He gently took out the photograph, folded it carefully, and tucked it into Munna’s shirt pocket. english bbc compacta class 9
Rohan froze. He had accidentally touched the boy’s most private treasure. He saw panic in those eyes – the panic of a child whose last piece of home was being stolen by a stranger in a white sneaker.
He was just living .
His pocket, however, was light. It contained exactly three crumpled ten-rupee notes and a half-eaten packet of digestive biscuits. He placed it all on the newspaper
He was saving for a new mobile phone case. Every rupee mattered.
Rohan’s brain began its usual argument. Side A (The Self): “You need that ₹300 for the phone case. If you give him money, you’ll be short. Dad will say ‘I told you so’ about wasting pocket money.” Side B (The Human): “The phone case is plastic. This boy is buying dinner. A matchbox costs less than a toffee.”
He looked at the boy’s feet. No shoes. Just cracked heels wrapped in blue polythene. He looked at his own sneakers – new, white, the ones his father had ordered online last week. Rohan stopped
Based on a true incident from the lanes of Old Delhi.
He walked away. The Physics worksheet was still unfinished. The phone case was now a distant dream. But as he stepped into the shade of the Gurdwara, he felt a strange, quiet warmth. He realised that for the first time that week, he wasn't calculating anything.
Rohan didn't think this time. He didn't calculate.
Rohan ignored him. He had seen a thousand Munna’s before. But then, the boy did something strange. He didn’t shout or cry. He just carefully straightened a crooked matchbox, looked up at the grey sky, and whispered, “No rain today, please. If the matchsticks get damp, no one will buy.”