The Most Inhumane Thing I Have Ever Seen

While traveling through a bustling city in Pakistan, I stopped at a small roadside dhaba (restaurant) for a cup of chai. The air was filled with the sounds of honking rickshaws, shouting vendors, and the occasional call to prayer from a distant mosque. Amidst all this, my eyes landed on an elderly woman sitting on the pavement. She was frail, her back bent with age, and her hands trembled as she sorted through a small pile of old vegetables.

The Most Inhumane Thing I Have Ever Seen

Curious, I observed her for a while. She carefully selected a few tomatoes and potatoes from the roadside dust, brushing them off with her wrinkled fingers. Beside her sat an equally old man, possibly her husband, quietly watching her. He held a small knife in his shaking hands, trying to peel an onion with utmost concentration. They weren’t begging, nor did they seem like the usual street vendors.

Something about them felt... out of place.

I called over the waiter and asked about the elderly couple. He sighed before replying, "Baba aur Amma ji roz yahan aate hain. Kabhi kabhi koi unhein kuch de deta hai, warna yeh apna khana khud banatay hain." (They come here every day.). Sometimes people give them food, but mostly, they cook for themselves.)

I decided to approach them, offering to buy them a full meal from the dhaba. But the old man shook his head politely and said, "Beta, hum bhookay nahi hain. Bas yeh aadat si par gayi hai." Son, we are not hungry. We have just gotten used to this.)

His words stung.

The dhaba owner later told me their story. They had three sons, all well-settled in different cities. The old man had once worked as a carpenter, building homes for other people. The woman had spent her life cooking and cleaning, ensuring that her children never slept hungry.

Yet today, their own children had no space for them.

"They had a home once," the dhaba owner said with sadness in his voice, "but their sons sold it after the father got sick. They gave them a small portion of the money and told them to take care of themselves."Now, they lived under a makeshift shelter by the railway station, cooking whatever they could gather from discarded vegetables or the kindness of strangers.

I sat there for a long time, watching them share their meager meal with quiet dignity. They had lost everything, yet they still held onto each other. That day, I learned something heartbreaking—there is no pain worse than being forgotten by the people you sacrificed everything for.

This is one of the most inhumane things I have ever seen.