FOOD

On a hot summer afternoon
a father and his daughter sitting
over the pavement of the drain
in front of my house.
Spread over the pavement father’s loincloth,
in which they have laid
all collected food
from the dustbin of near by hotel.
Segregating the eatables from not eatables,
enjoying every bite of it
as if sense of heaven in hell.

The father eats away the major share,
daughter managed what ever she could
and Darwin at haven was happy
to see his “survival of fittest”.

I sense fear somewhere within them,
somewhere within them I sense little restlessness,
probably they don’t want to share the food,
could be they don’t wish me to look at them
also possibly they were thinking about their fate
that tomorrow would bring.

To them,
heat of summer has no meaning,
To them,
tears bears no value,
only thing where hope rests
was on food.

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