The Man Who Carried Mountains
๐ช The Man Who Carried Mountains In a narrow alley of Kolkata, where the walls were stained with paan and stories, lived a man named Hari — a ragpicker by profession, but a warrior by soul. Every morning at 5 a.m., before the sun painted the sky orange, Hari was already out with his large sack, bending, lifting, carrying the waste others threw away. He wasn't always this way. Years ago, Hari had a shop — a small one that sold stationery and old books. He had a wife, a newborn daughter, and hope in his heart. But one accident on the highway took it all away — his family, his shop, and his reason to smile. ๐ซ️ That night, Hari sat beside a burning pile of garbage, watching the smoke rise like unanswered prayers. He could have given up. But instead, he stood up, tied a rope around an old jute sack, and said to himself, "If life has taken everything from me, I’ll start with what it throws away." He began picking plastic bottles, newspapers, wires — anything with value...