Saturday, October 5, 2013


"So what does it mean to you?" I asked.

"What?" he asked back.

"This whole sweeping thing" I said.

"You mean this job of mine" he exclaimed.

"Yes, why are you doing it, you don't look well, why don't you stay back home?" I asked him crossly.

"Because there I don't and here I do" he said and smiled.

"Do what?" I asked again.

"I earn" he added with pride.

"So?" I added.

"It means hope"

So said the old man who cleans the park in the morning and swept me away.



WE said...

Very true, simple but very strong message....

AnicA said...

that was plain beautiful.... the poem, your scribbling of it... n the story !

Raksha Bhat said...

@Weekend-Windup: I am glad you like it:-)

@AnicA: Thank you threesome for liking all the three Anica:-)

Rajesh said...

You have a good heart. Keep it that way. Very few would stop to listen and learn from old world sweepers. The poor are the walking lessons in humility for the rich.