Old hands at work

Today morning was a little unusual one, not just because of the rains, but an unforgettable train journey that I had from Vashi to Wadala. I call it unusual & unforgettable, because of these 2 old ladies I saw traveling in the same compartment as mine (who I guess, were heading to their workplace). The reason why I mention about these 2 old ladies, is because I was so touched and was compelled to pen down the below few lines. I almost got a lump in my throat thinking what circumstances must be compelling them to work at this old age, wherein, they are supposed to be playing with their grandchildren and resting at home, instead.

 

Old Hands at Work

I sit, laid back in the train,

Looking outside the window,

A hand reaches me for support,

That of an old widow.

She sits, making herself some space,

And I suddenly get a glance of a tired face,

That is yet so fresh and voice like a chirp,

Those old hands at work.

She wakes up before the alarm clock,

To prepare food for her family,

There’s no single duty she can shirk,

Those old hands at work.

That old skin with wrinkles,

Still managing to smile with dimples,

In life, been through not just one jerk,

Those old hands at work.

With a pearl (cataract) in the eye,

Reaching for dreams in the sky,

No luxuries, no perk,

Those old hands at work.

All I can do is wish and pray

For some  relief and happiness to stay,

For the shivering hands so thin, still sterk,

Those old hands at work.