Every morning, He leaves his home behind, the same lane, which keeps him together, and not knowing where the day will carry him.

For him, every passenger is a story, every destination an offering. He believes that when someone sits in his rickshaw, it isn’t just a customer because they keep his wheels moving, his stomach fed, and his children studying.

In his heart, he believes God comes in many forms, and sometimes, He arrives as a stranger looking for just a ride.

On every good day, it’s the conversations that keep him going. And it is related to small things. Sometimes, it’s a schoolchild humming a song that makes him smile. Sometimes, it’s a tired office worker, and sometimes, it’s a chatty auntie who tells him all the gossip of the neighborhood, making his ride feel shorter. Each ride brings not just money, but moments—laughter, reflection, even companionship.

On tough days, his legs ache, the heat burns, and silence rides heavier than any passenger. But whether there is chatter or quiet, he keeps moving. The road doesn’t stop, so neither does he.

I wonder if he ever thinks of his youth, of his health, of his family. I wonder what made him smile the last time I wonder truly, but sometimes I think it’s not only about the people. It’s about the worries, the laughter., The burden they cry and most of all, their destination. And the stories that are shared in it.

He might have met countless people. In his life. And may have seen many beautiful days, big buildings, and many roads. And many nights.

At the end of the day, when he wheels back into his lane, the sun is setting, and the world feels quieter. He returns not just as a man who pulled a rickshaw, but as someone who shared pieces of life with strangers who became—if only for a ride—part of his story.

Because in every journey he gives, he finds his own.

Authhor: zeanna