They sit in silence
staring straight ahead
between honking cars,
rickshaws, garbage-lined streets.
Dusty, unwashed children
stream past the glass screen,
and a metallic separation
of illusions and reality.
Waving their wares–
toy cars, balloons, some
pornographic magazines;
their eyes filled with pleas,
a young one says,
“Will you buy this, please?
Ma’am, look at me–
in tatters, hunger drums
in my belly; my siblings as
ravenous as me”.
They just look, eyes fixed
at the windshield,
as tears roll down
the little brown cheeks
on to the pane
by the driver’s seat.
The driver, oh yes,
a man of steel!
Disconnected, unseeing;
his face inscrutable,
hands tapping impatiently
on the steering wheel.
About the Author
Neetu Malik writes poems, short stories and web content. She was educated in India and Austria. She has traveled and lived in three continents and her writing draws upon her experiences and impressions of cultures, people and the human connection.
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