The Old Man In White

As the sun falls in the horizon

Living souls went back to their comfy homes

While the other children rejoiced their childhood

This little one guarded the gate of her home

Dangling anxiously on its grills

Waiting for her father to return home;

Reading the number plates of vehicles

Amid the hustle, steady was her glare

She heard unfamiliar footsteps approaching her

An aged man in faded white

Stopped at a postbox by her side

At a snail’s pace, he drew a letter from his pocket

And dropped it into the letter case and smiled at her

He pedaled his bicycle with great struggle

Rode away and disappeared

The scene was broken by the loud honk of a car

The girl was happy to see her father

After finishing the day’s school

The little one was more excited about the noon

As she got one reason to wait by the gate

Her neck swung like a pendulum

Came to a standstill on an expected reunion

Delighted to see the same old man in fading white

Riding his bicycle to fulfil his routine

The same drill continues till one day

When the girl did not spot the old man coming her way

She waited until dawn

But the man in white didn’t get on

Days turned into weeks

Weeks into months and months into seasons

But not a hint of the man

Thoughts twisted and twirled like the wild wind

Questions hammered the fragile mind

The faded white attire

The broken smile

The posted letters

The lifeless bicycle



Endless routines

Sparked pity for the old soul

The prays spelled out of the little mouth

Do we really need to know the story of strangers

To build bonds or emotions?