ORIGINAL:

The Alter Ego

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Things are getting worse. People are shouting his name like he is a superstar. But
he is not. He is just a mere rikshaw puller's son. He doesn't know Euler's model or
e equals to m c square. But he knows how to pull a loaded rikshaw double of his
weight in this scorching heat. He knows how people react if they don't have a roof
on their head. It's obvious that he belonged to that background in past. But am I
not sick thinking so much about him? Will this roof hold if an earthquake hits?
Will I be able to survive? I am not sure. He will survive. He is disgraceful,
unhygenic, dumb and poor. "So how can he survive", I asked myself. I waited for
answer.
After sometime, he came out as he always does, pulled me to sleep with a smooth
touch on the head, we smiled and promised to be with each other in every moment; it
was the ancient promise. My question was unanswered but it didn't require an
answer. I just need to look up to him and they just need to be amazed.