Debasish sinha one short story

 The Hobo!

        The man shook convulsively as he sneezed while out-patients and their guardians sat in the small semi-lit hall of a homeo-clinic, waiting to be called in by turn.

            I was one among the waiting patients.

                 The man was of medium height, swarthy, his features ragged ; he wore a tattered pant that reached up to his knees, revealing his bare legs which were a mass of flaring blisters.

           As I was observing him from the corner of my eyes, I saw him walking towards me. I tried to look the other way.

             He tapped my elbow gently with the tip of his finger, drawing my attention to him.

            As I turned round to see, he stretched out his right hand towards me, asking for money, his eyes imploring.

                  I swivelled around reflexively in repulsion, looking around for a safer place, away from the beggar.

                    Disappointed, he withdrew away towards other people, behaving in a similar fashion. They, too, spurned him.

           Then, he sat on a raised slab, sneazing, coughing and trembling convulsively.

            I watched him again in detail : he was emaciated ; his face was cadaverous ; he stank of animals.

                       Shaking off all inhibitions, I went over to him as I drew out my wallet from my pocket and handed him a five rupee coin.

          On getting the money, he scurried away for the stall, that stood opposite the homeo -clinic, selling spicy snaks. He bought a couple of snacks ; sat on a bench and plunged into it, like a man starved and famished.

           It flashed across my mind that I knew the man earlier, a very familiar face, indeed, but couldn't recall when and where.

            As I saw him eating from a distance, I instinctively felt to give him another five rupee coin.

          I went over to him and handed the coin. He took it swiftly from my hand and disappeared into a jostling crowd across the NH34.

         I stared at the crowd for a long time , tracing his sign as I tried hard, remembering where I had seen him before.

          Before I racked my brain further, delving into the past, I was called in by the doctor's attendant. My turn came.

        Consultation being over at the clinic, I took my bike, riding homewards, again trying to burrow into the past, piecing together fragments of past memories.

        When I came home, it was evening. And I had a shower to stave off the likelihood of corona infection. I lay in bed, again recalling everything that followed.

Yep!!

Gosh! I remembered everything.

       He was a popular hawker, selling his wares on the same bus which I boarded everyday when i went to school. Everything flashed back to me : his stentorian voice when he called his wares ; his ever-smiling face ; his chatty miid ; his gait ; his demeanor, his sturdy body ....

              The over-drawn-out lock-down in the wake of hideous Corona forced many hand-to-mouth daily earners like the hawker into begging.