Two rooms separated with a half wall,
and no third wall to the villagers,
they live, the family of Barkha’s- nine
members. No electricity, no LPG, no
bed, torn clothes, in an empty vessel
with empty hope. Both the fathers
leave for work early and return home
dirty. They are drain cleaners. They
return in dirt cleaning others dirt into
the dirty hole. I forbid to anybody who
calls it a home. It is not home. It is not.
Nobody can return to it.
But they return. They live there. They
sleep there. Infact, they wake up there.
Real home was burned by mistake in
the Diwali fire two years ago. And all
that was left of the home was all that
was left of it.
(May God bless them with faith and hope
and us with heart to all come together and
help them build home again.)
