The Dreary Man

An attempt at creating a portrait out of words.  

The dreary man looked older than his years. He was perhaps in his late forties or even younger. He was clad in a white shalwar qameez. A white crocheted cap was sitting neatly on his head and on his feet he wore dust covered slippers. His snowy bearded face made him look respectable according to the society’s standards. His somewhat trembling lips were holding on to a cigarette which presumably was a cheap brand affordable to him. He had a slight limp in his walk which he was confidently covering by trying to walk as straight as possible.

The hardships of the life had left a mark on his overall persona. The difficulties he had been going through all his life were clearly evident. The lines, features and expressions on his face were a witness to his destitution. But he was going strong; as strong as can be. He was boldly facing the hurdles of his life and bravely fighting them off. He was not spreading his hand in front of people to beg for alms. He was continuing to rightfully “earn” a livelihood by working. He had not let the difficulties beat him up or extinguish the flame of life burning within him. 

He was still standing tall; a noble man with flowing dignity.