THE MENDICANT

I had seen him some years ago. He, a mendicant, was alone , early in a morning, under a tree, close to the Temple gate. I watched him playing with his thoughts and sought his consent to be photographed. He laughed and readily agreed. But I lost the chance to capture his thoughts while he was talking to himself. Now he was looking at me ; no longer into him. I had no alternative; i settled for his changed countenance and clicked. He smiled when I thanked him with a gentle tap on his left shoulder.
Touching him I felt the uplifting power of happiness; it makes one rise; --- above grief, injustice and deprivation.