That yearn for a prod of snow!
Sorrow for the snowy terrains,
That dire for the benevolence of gaiety.
Sad for those hired hands returning in the silence of the dark; empty and crestfallen!
The growling stomachs whacked to the sham sympathies of politicos.
Some count blessings to be blessed to worldly pleasures,
While to others, blessing is a “one time meal”
The wrinkles of poverty glooped on the appalling visages.
The autumnal silence hanging on the great rooted blossomers.
Like every coin has two faces,
So does the globe.
One encompassing brightness,
The other, Kalahandi phobe.
Picture credits: Rajiv Srivastava