Who Is At The Wrong End!

My train was late, I had to wait,
choiceless boredom made me  unmindful

of passengers moving with luggage,
family and hurried noise, the vendors

chaiwallas shouting and selling yards

of tea to gullible passengers, pocketing

money with practised hands.

A limping beggar  thudded from left
diverting my attention to sympathy:

asked me for a rupee, a man

may be in his thirties, broad  chested
hefty with sharp eyes stood in a half pant

just touching knees; I was curious
my sympathy changed to a slow anger

the mismatch  of the body and outstretched
hands made me shoot questions: Why

who, where and how?- Will you secure

your future by begging on railway platforms?

I sank within thinking he would be angry 

and may be rude and unmannerly but
to my surprise he met my eyes and
said in an even voice, polite and firm

he owns a three storyed building , his
fixed deposit- Why do you beg then?

This is the safest and most secured job,

exploiting the kindness, sympathy and

goodness of people who are my ATM-

All time money you know.

Then he left, there was no limp

I was awestruck and thought,

Who is at the wrong end??

He or me and picked up my bag 

as the horn of the train alerted me.

Sabita sahu