Her wrinkled face evident of the struggles of her life
Her eyes were dry deep and had lost all their charm which she might have had
Guess the tears made them so
The torn sari draped her body
But she wasn’t even bothered about it
Few passing by gave her a coin or two
She folded her hands thanking them and giving her blessings
But what happened to the one who got those blessings on a daily basis
Her hands tremble as she tries to pick up the coins
Getting up is a up hill task for her but she somehow manages
Deserted seems the right word for her but by her owns, that seems too harsh to be true
No one to talk no one to share she sits there
Is she counting her days?
All her struggle all her fights and all her life
Looks like a failure but then is there any fault of hers in it?
Living in this progressive world why is such regression so vividly visible
Aren’t we supposed to be human?
Thinking all this I walk up to her and give her some money..
“God bless you my son” she says in her weak voice
But what happened to her own I wonder…
I turn my back and start walking.. Is there something more I could do..
Still in these thoughts I turn around
The eyes are still the same… The stare is the same
Guess she is waiting for someone.. Death may be!!