The old lady sits hunched on the stool and in her feeble voice, cries out a series of barely audible “tissue, tissue”.
The man sports a pair of pants torn at the back pocket. Presumably her son, he stands beside her with one hand placed on her shoulder in a touch of affinity, and periodically leans down to talk to the old lady, asking her if she’s tired.
The pair have been coming to this junction at Somerset almost every day, standing for 1-2 hours at a stretch to peddle packets of tissue.
What drove them to do this? What meagre earnings do they make and is it sufficient for them?
No one knows.
As I walk away after passing them some money, the shrill voice of the old lady and her frail image linger in my mind.
Against the backdrop of swanky new malls and shops springing up along Orchard Road, and multitude of rich foreigners thronging this country, the sight of this lady and her brother brings an acute sense of irony. It is heart-wrenching and almost painful to watch.
If you happen to pass by the junction and see them, do cast aside any reservations you may have about their financial status or why they are doing this and pass them a dollar or two. It is a token sum for you but for them, may go a long way.
The Alternative View
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