On the other side of road

There is a voices,  which is coming from the one side of road, murmuring sound and in the high pitch, this is the moment , why are you avoiding at all ? Those are not from other planet , live it with you, take a breath in the same open nature , in the same land on this earth, You smell the taste of flowers , go to school, go for job, go for lunch , go for dinner, and for them one time food, why is it so ? who cares for them, who hug to them. Nobody, not anywhere. They cry a lot, they can’t do it anything, you can do it better then anybody else. you never go on the other side of road, they live , eat , sleep on the same way.

You like to go to garden, fairs, temple, movie. but they only enjoy on the other side of the road, try to feel the pain of them, emotion from them. You set your place good, why not for them,

Street children, the only part of this earth , who live life in the down side of line. Not for food also for shelter , they search road by road. Help them, educate them, teach them and make it yourself for this nation’s most incredible person.

I am alone

Its hard , Its hard

Young tired blood cells

On the road of opportunity

With  the unfortunate whisper

With the unshaky traits

New ways, new path,

who know , who wants

I am alone , I am alone

Its an ecstasy or what would i have to call. Each day , each moments , sleep on the rail track , waiting for the food, shelter. Who will come and hug me ? how will care for me?

A very tearful life of one of my brother , It says more about the loneliness. I know that life is worst if nobody is there for you. That day near about the evening 8pm. just crossing from the bridge , A boy with somewhat 12 year, with wetted eye and  raising hand for food, asked me for the money  i have no idea, how could i say anything. A boy for begging , if i pay it anything it really says, i am making the habit and the boy will come across everyday, he was crying not for money , Crying for the darkness and the loneliness. The drop of tears , and the spotted on his cloth.

At 6 , My father left me at the shop of carpenter and said me to work there and earn money. It really touchy story but i couldn’t say anyhing , now just an outside , aloof boy , that shopkeeper out me from the shop, now the shelter is Railway Bridge and the food is garbage food. Cried a lot when lost my job. The shopkeeper gave some chunks of coins, what did i say to him. not really words for me.