OLD IS NO LONGER GOLD
By Neel Anil Panicker
They don’t buy them anymore. Naah, not they…nawt at all.
Why would they? And pray, why would they even look at me? A relic of the past. An haggard old pockmarked face with enough lines on it to put to shame a child’s random zig zag pencil scratchings on a much used and abused piece of drawing paper?
And what use would they have of my wares? The ones I hold to my chest, the small little colourful ribbon dolls that I make painstakingly all through the night, the ones I hope to sell them in the day for peanuts?
Peanuts it’s for them, the nonexistent buyers; but for me they’re enough to feed me, to keep me alive through this harsh winter.
Today, like all others days, is a ‘No Sale’ day.
Much like all other days.
Maybe, I’ll live to fight another day.
Maybe, I won’t live another day.
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