It was early morning when I saw him. Garbed in this beautiful yellow: Striking. A holy man I thought. He walked in slow motion. Accompanying him was his cane and his tin lunch pail. I watched him from the car. Traffic was the usual chaos in Delhi. When he turned his head to cross the street, I snapped the photo. I wanted to talk to him, for his hands held many stories. But the cars had moved, and the buses took his sight away from me. Now, I just have my imagination left to wonder.