Brooming of Sorrow.

Brooming of Sorrow.
By Kalpesh Patel.

Every morning before the city woke up, Nima swept the long lane behind the market. 
Her broom was older than her slippers, but her smile was fresher than dawn. 
People called her chhokri safaiwali, yet she thought of herself as the keeper of clean mornings.

Nima was an orphan — no parents, no home beyond the half-roofed shed near the temple, and no one waiting at night. 
Still, she lived as if life had given her everything.

One day, Leady Laxmi, a wealthy woman known for her silk saris and diamond bangles, dropped her purse near the garbage bin. 
Nima found it — full of money and a golden chain. 
For a moment, she stood still. 
She could buy slippers, a sari, maybe even a door for her roofless room.

But then, she looked at her broom. 
It had taught her one truth — clean what’s in front of you, not collect what isn’t yours.

She took the purse to the police post. 
The officer stared in disbelief. 
“Why didn’t you keep it, girl?” he asked.

Nima smiled gently.

> “Because I already have what I need — peace after sleep.”

That evening, Leady Laxmi came searching for her and offered a reward. 
Nima folded her hands, refusing softly:

> “Memsaab, when I stopped asking for more, I started feeling rich.”

Leady Laxmi’s eyes filled with tears. 
She placed her hand on Nima’s head — 
a blessing the orphan had longed for but never begged for.

As Nima walked back, the sun melted into gold across the dust. 
Her broom moved slowly, sweeping away not just garbage, but sorrow itself.

She whispered to herself —

> “Trust and feel only satisfaction, 
for all needs are never fulfilled.”

That night, under the open sky, Nima slept — 
not as a poor sweeper, 
but as the richest soul in the street.

Because she knew the camouflage truth of life — 
that peace often hides beneath simplicity, 
and contentment is the quiet wealth of the heart.

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