last night, was walkin down the road with a cousin of mine.. kind of a childhood friend. we ended up finding an ugly n poor old drunkard, sleepin on the road in front of a desi bar. my cousin said "half of them dont want to go home n half of them dont hav one to go!! "

such an artistic n poetic expression it was. n we left the scene. lately, i was trying to visualise that old man's life. he must have came from some far off village. debts, wife, children n makin home with a salary, which wont even buy a branded jeans for us. 30 years of life, spent travellin in packed trains of suburbs, in search of a better life.

long ago, he might have mistakenly travelled in the first class compartment. the looks from the white collared men must have raped his pride. for a day, he must have tried to look through the glass of a jewellery shop. he must have read a news bout a suicide of his farmer friend in village.

50 Rs in wallet, wasted life, nothing to live for, nothing to die for. what can we expect? all n all its no one's fault.

oh yes, there was a dog, who accompanied him.