They.Our Unknowing Guides.

This is a small poem about the rickshaw pullers who take us through the heartbeats of a city,showing us the unexplored and abandoned traces of a new city.


These waves of constant change,

Engulf them in spheres of captivating unreasonableness,

Witnessing unfamiliar faces,new voices,

But the old heavy feeling of receiving validation radiating from them,

Their lives are a whirlpool of catacombs,

Maneuvering through one tunnel or the other,

A certain kind of lucid dampness in their eyes I see,

They are everywhere but nowhere,

They guide us to new places we haven’t seen before,

Teaching us in more than many ways to get past the muddle of our precarious lives,

New journeys await us,

But they can’t get past the ones they encountered,

They are wrapped in a holy mess,

If we are to believe that destiny leads us through the doors of our transient being.

A machine to run their whole lives,

To care for its needs as if it is a part of his own vulnerable breathing soul,

A hint of excitement still keeps burning like the last embers keeping us warm in the dreary winter  nights,

They are everywhere but they are nowhere,

When they are gone,

Not even these roads on which treacherous journeys were undertaken,

Will tell stories of their mortal being,

Now in another time,

Bright eyes are glowing again,


Destiny smirks at these foolish humans,

Only time nods wisely,

For she knows the fate of what awaits them,

And just like this,

It goes on and on…


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