Warm Peanuts And Chickpeas

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.

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