The Newspaper Boy Poem by Ravi Panamanna

(A boy would appear at my counter from a textile shop for the issuance of DD for his owner. He would be seen drooping his head quite often and when I asked him for his dullness, he said that he was a newspaper boy as well and that he had to get up early in the morning for his livelihood. It touched me and I decided to pen on him. As I began this poem, the backdrop got changed to a place by the Ganges. Some kind of an unconscious drive.)


It is not yet dawn,
The Ganges is not yet awake.
Upon the distant hills
The wind is musing in dreams.

Chirpings are not yet heard,
The world is still wearing the veil of mist.
Moonlight is winking at every door,
Only a crow is breaking the silence.

In those filmy scenes,
A boy is wheeling for his bread.
With a cartload of newspaper
He is darting along every street.

He is thin and lean,
He is only in his ‘teens.
Yonder the rill and blossoming dales
Two eyes are waiting for his return.

A widow, the caring mother,
A couple of toddlers, cadaverous frames,
A thatched roof, signs of penury,
A square meal, to sustain life.

Plus, he does some errands,
A family bangs on his shoulder.
Daytime is spent in a shop
He is not safe even there.

A caged bird, silent sobs,
Seasons meet him with an indifferent tab.
The song is often a monotone,
But the tang is one of inviting life.

Hope – human life is pushed by it,
Dreams – human life is filled by it.
Rains are not always rains for man,
Rainbows are also seen now and then.

Thus, he too survives in this world,
Though, it is a load beyond his shoulders.
May the misty dawns gift him a pearl drop,
May his dreary ways lead him to open skies.
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01st March 2014.