He was walking down the dusty lanes

Barefooted in torn clothes

His feet survived the scorching sun and the heavy rains

Effortlessly walking on hilly terrains and sharp stones.

He explores garbage like an excavating archeologist

He travels; different street and different places

With his plastic bag on daily basis.
He is a sweet innocent nine year old

For him the books didn’t glitter like gold

Skinny and weak he looked 

No food no water, nothing was there to be cooked.


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