Under a shady tree on frayed mats , they sat
Unmindful of a brace of hens , and a robust brown rat
Scavenging for food on the garbage littered ground
And a red -whiskered bulbul perched on a dirt mound.
Some with big sacks , some with small
Fronting the ornate mall.
With dexterous fingers
These cleanliness harbingers
Packed the garbage according to its genre
While a tiny rag picker slouched in a corner
In a cocoon of silence wrapped
In his misery trapped .
Suddenly he sprang up from the ground
His black, almond shaped eyes became round
Towards a balloon seller he scampered
While the others worked on unhampered.
Miraculously, the grime fell from his face
On his cheeks, of dirt no trace .
They assumed a rosy hue
As the balloon seller gave him a balloon blue.
Ah, it was bloated with promise
Filled with bliss
He raced back towards his family of rag pickers
The left hand thumping his patchwork knickers
And the right holding the balloon in the air
Eyes scintillating with kaleidoscopic colours rare.
The bloated blue balloon
Like a diurnal moon
Reared its head towards the turquoise skies
Colorful chuckles replaced the boy’s sighs.
With the laughing doves he chortled
His emotions he now freely unbottled.
The trees poured a melody of freedom
Gone was the rag picker’s sad boredom .
No longer in his cocoon of silence wrapped
Or in his misery trapped.
He was in his dreamland once again
Where liberty, hummed a blissful refrain .