In a hot summer day on my way going home, I saw a little boy sitting in a corner of a street. He was wearing a shabby shirt and pyjamas. His face was unwashed and dirty. He pulled every passer-by's pants and begged money repeatedly. He was actually a beggar. I couldn't see how much money he got; perhaps he got nothing. I felt pity and sorry for him. I'm used to feeling so. I bought an ice-cream for him. He grasped and looked at me with open eyes. First he was surprised and then I saw a nice smile on his face. He was so happy as if I bought a bicycle for him.
I paused and wanted to ask what his name was but said to myself: "Does he really have a name?Does he have any parents to choose a name for him? There is no child in the world without name. But where have they gone his dear mother and father? " I said these things to myself and desided not to ask his name. I didn't want him to feel ashamed of having no name. I passed and thought of that tragic scene. I burst into tears in my heart. I am a ..., you are a student, businessman, selfemployed, etc. Everybody is somebody. But what is he now and what is he going to be in future??? Only a beggar, a beggar, and a beggar...h
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