24 May 2006

As seen

I went to a temple some 600 kilometers away on a bus. It was a 10 hour journey. Whenever the bus stopped at a station, fruit sellers would hog the windows and relentless try to sell you some fruit or another.

He tried long and hard
To sell the grapes he had
Running to and fro

From window to window
Grapes perched high in one hand
All over the bus stand

He lumbered on
Wet with perspiration
Neverthless with no apparent frustation

For four hungry mouths
Waited at home
And he knew he can’t let them down

He had little money
Living forever in parsimony
But he was in harmony

He did not steal, kill or beg
Cheat, lie or swindle
Nor was he idle

So be it
If no one bought his grapes
And passengers shut the windows on him

The door to a better life would open
For those who wait for it to happen
And he knew he will

Survive this day
If only to fight another.

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