He was standing at the ambit of my college gate and surveying us with a glee in his eyes. Wondering what was the hustle and bustle all about. I was standing talking to my friends when my eyes spotted this young boy of maybe thirteen, rusty hair n dark complexion. He was wearing shoes but two totally different kinds , torn clothes and a big bag on his shoulders . His eyes were as if talking to me, asking whether he will ever be able to do all the things that I did.
Will he ever go to college, will he ever buy a pair of shoe, will he ever be able to cross the border separating both of us. So many question but answers none. Its a dismay that the difference between both of us will never be terminated. He will carry the burden of his world in his bag trying to survive and I will be watching a hundred like him inquiring me the same.
He walks around all day long searching for gold in the garbage. it doesn’t matter whether its scorching heat or flooded roads . It doesn’t matter if its dawn or dusk. All he ponders about is surviving the very day. One will find him, through out my country. Tall , short, dark , fair, he comes in all packages. Singing his favourite songs walking in the streets of renounce in search of support.
Why is that the distance between us can never be bridged. I reckon all day long and then reality slaps me hard saying it out loud .He is a ragpicker ,his life ends at the periphery where mine begins.
