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.



Weekend-Windup 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.