When I was a boy in India, I was taking the train to go to a friend's house. On the seats across from me was a boy who looked about 7 years old. He was with his little sister, who was about 4, and by their looks, the both were very poor. When the train stopped at a platform, you know what the platform is, right? (yes, continue) While I was inside, there was a tea vendor on the platform. The girl in front of me started to cry, "I need food, I'm hungry!" The boy immediatly took his sister and stepped out of the train to the tea vendor and begged him for something to eat. The vendor barked "No! Get away from here you dirty dogs!" The boy begged more, and finally the vendor gave (luckily) a small finger sized bit of bread and a small cup of tea, only a few drops. Taking it, the boy began to force his little sister to eat it. And I realized that the starving 7 year old boy didn't eat anything himself, and fed his sister instead.
When my Dad finished the story, I began forking down my dinner. I thought about the boy, how saintly he was, how loving and innocent and well: saintly.