As I sit to compose

The lady with the puffed rice walks outside my window

She has slowly sailed like a boat into the stream of concrete and has called out for the children like a noisy train that passes inside the city

The child that waited in empty stomach without his routined play has stepped out upon hearing the siren

His mother is busy inside in this late afternoon to fry the rice of the morning meal

In the distance the lady stops to talk with the child, and his mother interrupts the lady

The child eats the fried rice.

It was only for the noise that he got distracted, just like me

It could have been better, the sale for the lady could have been proper

Hadn’t the mother care for her child?

The mother was late, but it was also late in the afternoon and the fried rice was already ready.

By Sushant Thapa

From: Nepal

Website: https://lit-at-sushant.blogspot.com/

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