Invisible

One man. Just one among such socially active people at this dhaba, sits in deep thought. He stares straight to the road, scratching his white beard every now and then. His eyes., focused on something absent from the scene. Silent, alone and messed up. Perhaps a laborer, a common worker thinking about how he'll get through the day.
Would the opinion of such a man matter to me?
No.
Why?
He doesn't count. He doesn't matter.

I now understand why corporate fucks and our leaders don't care about the nation or its people. Why they are so inconsiderate. If I, nothing as I am, would regard this commoner as lame, incapable of intellectual thought and unworthy of my attention, Why would they then care about me? After all, I am to them, as this man is to me. Non-existent. 
Our whole nation doesn't count, doesn't matter.