He came like a naughty kid

with red cherries on his cheeks

with artificial moustache 

and the shy smile on his face

with a red cap having a rope and bell tied

Dressed in filthy colourful clothes

in a pure comic manner

hiding in her mother’s torn sweaty sari

Looked upon everyone slightly

His mother sat on a side 

thumped drum and sang song in high voice

Just by her mother’s one gesture he started to dance

Passing through one big ring 

Revolving his head round the bell ranged

He was enjoying himself whole heartedly

Going to everyone and showing his dance

With changing cheerful expressions on his face

He knew the art to live, art to survive…..

We were enjoying and laughing it as a drama

But for him it was like the food in their stomach

Hope was clearly seen in his eyes

His mother’s voice revealed the pain of their poverty

Then he came with an old rusted bowl asking money

The one who gave him money he gave a big thankful smile

The one who ignored he went giving them a wicked smile as he is the king of world…

He begged for his survival not for his talent…

He taught me many things as in the age of three or four

We being dependent on our parents

But here he was feeding his family…

I tried to ask his name but he didn’t answered

He stared me for few seconds then went to other coach of train

 Again to perform for survival journey

I asked people around what they are called?

They said they don’t have specified names as they are nomads

But they are called as NATT.

~Tinker_shiwi

“for Talent not for survival”

expressions awesome👌

and after reading we can feel pain of Natt.

Keep scribbling shiwi !

Happy reading

Yours loving warrior

Nain