I stopped by the city junction point one night
And I walked along little far on the roadside.
That tender-ambidextrous hands juggling in a temporary shop
With the occasional soothing sounds of crackles and pops.
Draped in a linen shirt
Covered in smoke and dirt.
With the partially burnt coals
Yet like a diamond-face in the mining holes.
Under a big umbrella almost double his size
Looking at passers-by with his hopeful eyes.
A wonderful display of warm peanuts and chickpeas
A perfect time-pass for every walker only if they see.
Beneath the grey skies and chilling cold
The hope had multiplied only to tenfold.
The gleaming eyes seeing a ten rupees note
Like winning a prize left with a choked throat.