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The Old Man In White
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?
