I met this garbage collector many days ago. I can’t forget the moments we spent together. He was such a gentleman and we had a spectacular conversation:
What are you collecting?
Oh, you sell plastic and earn, is it?
Yes, I am poor rag-picker, Sir.
My name is not Sir. I have a name.
How much do you earn by selling these plastic bottles?
Rs. 300-350 per day.
This is good. Do you send your children to school?
Yes, I send my younger child to municipal school.
What about the elder child?
He’s mind-less, so…
Isn’t all humanity mindless?
LOL! You can say that, you’re a big man.
I am not big man. I have a name.
What’s your duty-timings?
Anyway, do others like you fight with each other?
No, we do it with togetherness. We have defined our area and scope of work.
I hope leaders of the country learn from you.
You are rich people, you can say anything.
I am not rich. I have a name. What is yours?
My name is Agastya.
What do you do Agastya?
Anyway, I meet people and write stories. Has anybody talked to you like this before?
Never. You’re the first one.
Can I be of service? Can I offer you some money or stuff for children or home?
No, no, no. You have asked and that is enough for me.
Have you met God?
Do you see God in me?
Garbage is my God.
I realized God while cleaning utensils—I could see the almighty in the happiness, the utensils, the sweat but I never visualized this angle in my entire life.