Sunday, 14 October 2012


One hundred one windows,
Light coming out from famous building,
There are rumors, affluent mouths, and
Massage parlors, and a swimming pool,
Design Empire of locality is landmark to locate streets.
And behind the building, no light is there,
The lane behind the street as if dark day on the ground,
It is one ancient lane of secrets of living.

There is another life behind the street,
Always it is at dusk, light is gloomy,
All crowded workers living, serving others,
People here do live, they buy essentials at one small shop
And there only an electric bulb gives slanting light.
It is here with hundred years of history,
Everyone is here careful while walking on road,
Street dogs bark if strangers come to find someone.

The shop owner is young man sitting with bare body exposing,
He is smiling always to serve people, who buy groceries.
Small quantity of cosmetics is there for younger people,
Flamboyance is here reduced to daily needs,
On query he says, “I am ignorant of wealthy visage,
I am bearer of ancient ethics of my forefathers,
I know I have now to take risk of lending commodities,
To all people who come here to buy things of their needs.”

He puts one placard on the wall of his shop,
“Selling items on credit is my living,
No hiding ecstasy does relate to me.
Turnover of my business is limited to needs of living.
Please pay me when you can afford to pay the price.”

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