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
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