supamun's Diaryland Diary

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muru the indian

Muru was a diminutive man of Indian origin, and by frequent sights of him around my neighbourhood, I knew he lived somewhere nearby.
Fate had not been kind on Muru. He had suffered a stroke and was paralysed on his entire left side. He always seemed to wear a dirty orange shirt, and his general appearance was unkempt and scary. Everywhere he went, people kept at a distance.
Despite the social stigma he received, Muru would make the arduous journey to the coffee shop everyday to buy food. Although it was a mere 400 metres away, it took Muru an eternity, as he dragged his almost immobile body to the destination and back, 1 painful step at a time.
As the days passed, Muru's condition deteriorated. It eventually took him almost an hour to make his daily trips to the coffee shop, and yet he persevered at it, ignoring the worsening pain screaming incessantly at him with each additional step he took.
After a while, I stopped sighting him around, and upon asking around, learned that he had passed away. Even more stunningly, I was informed that Muru had a sickly and bedridden mother, whose favourite food was Tiong Bahru porridge. Determined not to disappoint her, he would make the onerous daily journey just to please her.
Despite his own debillitating illness, Muru showed extraordinary courage and compassioned for his aged mom, and undeniably lived a successful life.

1:02 a.m. - 2005-07-09

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