An old woman sits by a flower shop on the other side of the street.
Her wrinkled skin , anguished eyes , sunburnt hands are a stark contrast to the beautiful flowers she is selling.
A maiden walks to her. Her fair spotless hands, feel the wreaths like a mother caressing her new-born. A virgin touch, seraphic smile, aura of tranquillity.
Garlands with over-stuffed flowers; bloating buses , agonizing noise. The flower shop seems heaven in disguise.
So many faces, so many colours; so many windows, so many shutters.
A malnourished child suddenly appears at the window. Her rags trying their best to cover the bruises from her master. She asks for money, my heart sinks into an abyss. She taps the window, the driver makes a gesture.
Her eyes reflect a forgotten reality. It’s only a window which draws a very important line. The first thought that comes in mind, gets buried because it’s hard to accept. No one chooses grief & misery. Is it an edict of stars that I am on the other side & she is real?
Who will carry the burden of despair? Is solitude the answer?
My ego doesn’t allow me to spare change. I justify by being against beggary.
An argument fires up over grazing cars.
Crowd joins in, reason is very far.
The maiden gets abstracted, little girl forgets about me.
I laugh my brains out.
Traffic slowly picks up,all the voices get lost in humming engines and rolling windows.
Its no wonder that the transition of Prince Siddhartha to Gautam Buddha was intiated after travelling through the city traffics.
This is by far most genuine peice of observation i have come across in a while and that too from some one of your age.
Your enngrossing style of writting and enchantment created for couple of minutes on traffic signal sinks me deep, am completely mesmerised.
Although expressing with words ... emotionally speech less!
luv and admiration..