“He held his hand out,
And my hand held firm,
On the pack of goodies..
……A traffic light,
Stopped the movement,
And a slight hunger,
Made me reach for it,
Then the bundle of rags,
Filthy, unclean,
With no other thought,
Except to get…
Something free.
What made him beg?!!
His limbs intact,
His childhood lost, broken,
His arms not outstretched,
To answer a classroom query,
But to grab,
Whatever is thrown.
Something made me hesitate,
Something stopped me,
…. I could have given..
The light turned,
I moved away,
For long not eating,
Then I did open,
Ate some from the pack
…..There was remorse,
The picture stayed,
What made him beg ?!
Will there ever be a world,
Where there wouldn’t be a knock,
On your heart,
Or on your window,
And an arm outstretched,
To ask …..
I had to drink some water,
It didn’t taste as good !!”
Written on Dec 17, 2002 at a Traffic signal