The Storm


A beggar’s misery we really don’t see.
Giving a coin or a 50 rupee note, is just a reflex
For some people. We rarely
Give a moment to look at a specimen
That struggles daily with green dough,
The type that goes to his palm
In small numbers. Struggle is never easy
It is a monster that pushes from every corridor
Every angle, on every open wound,
Gripping your mind, knowing that survival is much more
Than lady luck. I stood outside the supermarket
And gave 50 rupees to a man with
A leg filled with wounds and scars,
As I wondered, how can I ever spend
800 rupees on a gin cocktail. I went home that day
And decided to be more caring, more spendthrift
In my money habits. Our struggles are way tougher than it looks.
We are poached by fate, stranded
By inhospitable gods, when our only grace is,
Looking at the dead center of the eye
Of a roaring cyclopean monster,
Threatening to uproot us.

2 thoughts on “The Storm

  1. Yeahh.. I agree with you.. We do need to do something for them but that only begins if you can feel their pain amd can feel attached to them

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.