Dont kno if it was another one of them traveling lows, but I cried in my pillow two nights ago for a man I ment only thirty hours prior. He was one of the Bangladeshi patients I traveled with on the train and with whom I decided to share a room for the night. There was I - an educated American-Bangladeshi, exposed to worldwide ideas and experienced the spectrum of pains and pleasures of life. Then there was A---, who lived his whole life in a little faming village, whose only knowledge dealth with goats and cows, and who - for the first time left his little village - to a region previously unimaginable to him. Why the difference? Why the barrier?
Simply because of Freedom. Freedom to move ... physically. A--- was partially paralyzed waist down, and walks with help from others. All these differences from one small accident while playing 15 years ago. His innocence was piercing, his curiousity could kill every cat. He wanted to learn, see things, experience things...
So I cried, and perhaps in one of those very rare total-selfless moments, I whole-heartedly prayed that Allah give him hope, if not a cure, and keep him smiling.
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