“My man will die wishing for meat!”
It was the first day of fourth month of the twenty tenth, when someone knocked at the old door of my rented house. One of my sons ran, opened the door and an old woman cried out: "My man is sick. Please help me with a few rupees." With this the heartbroken woman entered the house and sat in front of my room by the doorway of the house where I was sitting and thinking about the life. The woman cried her bad days in a hard nomadic voice. She cried and said: “I don't have anyone. My man is sick. We are nomads. We don't have a house May God destroy houses of soviets who made us to beg.” Hearing this will set the human heart on fire. I went outside and saw that all my children and family were around. My mother approached the old lady from the other side of the yard and said, "Hey aunt, take these clothes.” "My man is very sick, he can't walk, he might live for a few days or not, I need money," she said to my mom seeing the clothes. The old lady cried ov...