Driving to work I see a small boy begging. His clothes are torn and his face is smeared with dirt. My heart goes out to him. I avoid giving money to him as I fear he may be troubled for the same.
I stop my car and ask him whether he would like to have something. “Yes, I want to eat momos,” he says. He gulps down a few that I offer and hides the rest in his shirt, maybe for a sibling at home.
in a box