This is Bhagwan Singh. He cannot remember when exactly he was born. Sitting next to him is his 6 year old granddaughter Beri.
Mr. Bhagwan lost his entire family in a terrible accident. Beri is the only family he is left with. He moved to Delhi from Rajasthan 8 months ago after "Sahukar" of their village gave him two thousand bucks and referred his name to another "Seth". "Seth" gave him a cycke rickshaw to ride on the account that he will have to give 1/3 rd of his daily earnings to him.
A month ago "Seth" fired him as he is too weak to ride a cycle rickshaw and hence makes really less money on daily basis. When Mr. Bhagwan cried for mercy, "Seth" offered to "buy" his granddaughter Beri from him for ten thousand rupees. Thankfully, Mr. Bhagwan didn't agree upon this transaction.
Mr. Bhagwan recalls how almost an year ago, he used to denounce beggars and shunned it as an act of cowardice. He and Beri now sit under a tree near a sweet shop, on the roads of Pitampura, Delhi. It's been ten days they are surviving on the mercy of passerby. It is the time of Lohri, so they expect to be offered some sweets.
In India on an average, Tirupati Temple earns ₹2260 crores per year in the form of donation; some 60 thousand believers visit Siddhivinayak Mandir everyday. It is insightful how even "Bhagwan" can be so poor and helpless at times.
P.S. I couldn't click a better picture as just the way humans do not understand the ways of Gods, "Bhagwan" doesn't understand the concept of smartphones.
Lets grow flowers next to our conversations.
Let’s find perfect shade of sun in winters,
to go along with the peels of moongfali
that scatter around us,
like words do.
Let me paint you in Monet’s colours of snow
that feels like the warmest glow.
Wrap your arms around me
and let me be a map to your cartographic ventures.
This is our winter.