A day before Diwali, in New Delhi...Saw her on the other side of the car window...
Sadistic the winter air beats across her bones,
Open palms,watery eyes & rags for what she calls clothes,
Blisters on her knuckles and a smile upon her lips,
A three year old by her side,a younger one on the hips.
Gods name she calls for alms to help her by,
Shadowed is her future as lights light up the sky,
Diwali is what she asks me for, gives blessings in return,
Her frail hands near the fire, shreds of wood they burn.
My hands search my pockets for remnants of her hope,
They too are empty, but at least am warm in the biting cold.