White...
With a brown tinge on her neck...
She was sitting...
By the wayside...
And he was just passing by...
(The way he does...usually...)
he looked at her...
Her sitting calm...
'she got stories...'
he thought...
And surprise!
It seemed she heard his thoughts
For she smiled...
As if by her smile
She said it all...
he smiled...
Knowing there was never a better
Reply
Than a smile...
She nodded...
The smile she just wanted...
The sky had again the blue
And the white...
And dark clouds too...
And after a few days...
Missing pink
he saw pinkish hue...
Again...
After so many days...
Pinkish hue...
And then
His favourite chai stop...
He had been absent...
The chaiwallah...
For the last few days...
Rain and wind
Sea breeze...
he was unwell...
by his smile he told him that...
And those street children of Him
They were back...too...
'where have you been?'
he asked them...
They were eager to tell him
That they had found a place
To rest their legs
And their heads
After the day...
'under that bridge...'
The youngest of them
Showed him...
he smiled...
The tea came
In simple glass...
And a biscuit...
'how are you?'
The man living with the banyan tree in the middle him asked...
'Good...'
he nodded...
Then resting his back
Against the motherly tree
Getting more sweet
Because of the rains...
he lit up...
The smoke he exhaled
Must be polluting...
so he prayed...
To Him...
'i am polluting You not
Not Your beauty...
Forgive me...'
'can i sit here?'
he heard someone...
A frail weak voice...
he looked up...
A man...
Weak as a beaten cow...
Thin thin legs...
White...
But depressed...
'sure...'
he nodded...
'put my sister
In her grave...
What a fate...'
The man thin as beaten by fate
Muttered...
To his own self...
he said nothing...
he was listening
A man's darkest times...
'she was young...
her eyes had only joy...
God is so cruel...'
The man sobbed...
he looked at his neighbour...
Reddened eyes...
Clumsy shirt...
A cell phone peeping...
From left shirt pocket...
his wrist watch had stopped...
his legs...muddy...
his shoes muddy too...
And his eyes closed...
he looked at the man' s defeat...
he looked at his temporary defeat...
'hello...
Good morning...
You need to eat something...'
he shook the man up...
The man looked up...
his eyes were so teary...
his face was so forlorn...
'i am guilty...you know...
i was involved into a rough fight...
And they
The enemies mine
Took her life...
Yes!
i need to teach them a lesson!'
The thin frail figure
Had rage coming out sudden...
Revenge...
Blood shot...
'you are so weak...
How can you fight?'
he asked him...
'i carry...things...'
Saying this...
The man...
A gangster?
Perhaps...
Took his right hand
And placed it
At his back...
As if he was asking him to feel
The nozzle of pure steel...
The cold hard nozzle...
That had fire...
Iron pellets lethal...
'God...'
he took his hand away...
Immediate...
'can i make a request?'
he asked...
'hmm...'
The frail enraged revengeful man
Who had buried his sister last night...
Nodded...
Looking determined...
Firm...
Thinking some
Plans...
'you need not to kill...
Just...
That...
Might harm your sister more...'
Saying this
he stood up...
Another experience...
The Sun had risen...
The chai wallah had customers many...
he could hear his busy hands
Working with pots and pans...
And cups...
And kettles...
And jars...
The street children were playing near
At the park...
With a discarded torn thing...
A football...
Someone had gifted them...
he moved on...
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