Are there angels on earth?

 Helping hands

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After getting the medicine from the salesman, when I reached the counter to pay, there were two people in the queue ahead of me.

 An old woman in the front, a young boy behind her.

 My medicines were placed on the counter in front of me and the receipt was buried under them. Also there were two more piles that belonged to the people standing before me.

I was in a hurry because my family was sitting in the car waiting for me. But it was getting late because The old woman was standing quietly at the counter.

I saw, repeatedly, with her thin, trembling hands, she held the sheet over her head and wrapped it around her body. His cloak would once have been white, but now it had faded to a light gray. He had ordinary air slippers on his feet and a bag of vegetables in his hand. The medical store man automatically picked up the woman's medicine bill and said.

'Rs 980'. He held out his hand for the money without looking at the woman.

The woman took out her hand from the cloak and held it in her fist, twisted it,  Two notes of 50 rupees were placed on the counter. Then he bowed his head.

"Arrears?" The shopkeeper's voice suddenly dropped to a whisper. He looked at the woman. The old woman kept her head down and fixed her cloak.

There must have been a two second silence. In those two seconds, we all realized that the woman either had little or no money for the medicine and was at a loss as to what to do. But the shopkeeper said without wasting a moment, quickly putting his pile of medicines into the bag and moving forward.

'Good, mother. Thanks'.

The old woman's head was still down. She grabbed the bag with trembling hands and walked out of the shop without looking at anyone. We all watched him go. I was surprised that medicines worth Rs.980 were given by this shopkeeper for only Rs.100. I was impressed by his generosity.

As soon as she went out, the shopkeeper first smiled at us. Then picked up a transparent plastic bottle placed on the counter with 'Donations for Medicines' written on it.

 There were many notes in this bottle. Most were ten and fifty notes. . The shopkeeper quickly opened the bottle and took out a handful of money. Then he started counting all the money he got on the counter. I wondered what it had started but kept watching.

The shopkeeper quickly counted all the notes and there were three and a half hundred rupees. He then put his hand in the bottle and took out the rest of the money.

 Now the bottle was completely empty. He closed the cap of the bottle and started counting the money again. This time the total was five and a half hundred rupees.

Both fifty notes, given by the old woman, He mixed the money coming out of the bottle and then took all the money and put it in his drawer. Then he turned to the customer standing in front of me. 'Yes brother'.

The young man, who was silently watching all this, held out a 1000 note. The shopkeeper saw his bill and put it in the note drawer and counted and returned three hundred and thirty rupees.

Without pausing for a moment, the young man grabbed the outstanding notes and folded them. Then the lid of the bottle was opened and all the notes were put in it and the lid was closed.Again, three hundred and three ten notes were visible in the empty bottle. The young man picked up his bag, greeted loudly and left the shop.

This action of barely a minute made me cringe. Before me, silently, a strange story was completed and the characters of that story, having played their part, disappeared from the screen of life. Only I was left there who was a spectator of this story.

"Brother, what have you done?" I couldn't let go and I asked, 'What is going on?'

"Brother, what have you done?" I couldn't let go and I asked, 'What is going on?'

'Oh nothing sir'. "It all goes on here," the shopkeeper said nonchalantly.

'But what is this? You have taken less money from the woman? Eight hundred rupees less. And even less money has come out of the bottle. So does it happen often?'

The old journalist in me was desperate to know what was going on.

'When does it happen Sir? Never. You know what is going on'. The shopkeeper leaned forward and said in a whisper, 'Drugs so much has become expensive. People in white come daily. Someone has less money. No one has them at all. So we don't forbid anyone. We help as much as Allah has given us. Allah helps us with the rest.

He pointed to the bottle.

'How many days does this bottle fill?'. I asked.

 He laughed. 'It will fill up in a few hours.'

'Really'. I was surprised. 'Then how long does it take to empty?'.

'It's not empty, sir.  If it gets empty, it gets filled again in two to three hours. Emptying and filling three to four times a day. Thank God'. The shopkeeper looked up, put his hand on his chest and said.

"So many people come to give and take money." I was in awe of the speed of goodness.

'Now you have seen it yourself, sir'. He laughed. 'The bottle was empty. But how long was it empty? Maybe ten seconds. Look now'. He pointed to the money in the bottle.

Who are the money givers?

'There are people from here, sir. Those who come to take medicine, they put money in it'.

'And who are those people who take medicine with this money?' I asked.

'They are also people from here. Most are elderly, widows and low-paid boys who need medicine for their parents'. He told

'Boys?'. My heart trembled, 'Why do boys take donated medicines?'

There is so much unemployment. I know many boys whose jobs have ended due to Corona'. He said in a sad tone, 'Now parents are at home. There are children. Everyone needs medicine. So boys are also now forced to take medicine from this bottle. what should we do. Many times we have seen boys crying while taking money out of it. Believe us we cry ourselves'. I could see moisture in his eyes.

'Well how much is my bill?'. I asked quickly so that he wouldn't see the moisture in my eyes.

'Seven hundred and forty rupees'. He said picking up the bill and wiping his eyes with one hand. I also handed him a 1000 note and the remaining money, opened the bottle and put it in it.

'Jazak Allah Sir'. He smiled and picked up a coffee from the counter and handed it to me.

I sat in the car thinking.

The fire of poverty is definitely burning. The flames of poverty are talking to the sky.

But flocks of baboons are also coming down from the sky in rows, with drops of water in their beaks.

Servants of God are doing their work. Quietly. lost name Praise and worship