The Unnoticed Viable Seed

At that far end of her building site,

She notices one worker in particular.

He is middle-aged, with a skinny dark body scarred with years of struggles.

As he mounts four cement blocks on the head,

and stretches out for the fifth,

Her heart bleeds and she staggers back in trepidation.

He may be working there since morning;

Continually lifting those lifeless things to a mason five stairs up.


Sadly, with no degree, no soft skill, no trade and many more,

He has to trust each minute for strength to push on,

To fight his world with sweats, blood, muscles and bones.

And recalling his famished and troubled home:

Seven hungry kids from different wombs hoping for his return,

And three wives fed up with the hardships and stepping out for good,

He gives up on the loads and kicks them off in agony,

With torrent of sweats snaking down his torn dirty T-shirt.

She, the viable seed he unnoticed some years back draws closer,

“Oh Daddy! Quit and better life with these notes.”,

She hands him a fat envelope, pouring out to him the pains of his premiere wife.

And discovering the giver, the premiere seed from his premiere wife,

He stutters out his blessing, his stony face shedding tears for forgiveness.


Oh Lord, the unnoticed viable seed prays not picturing the bitter past:

Days when that man had all the golds and voice untampered with,

And that cold night, when he chose a naughty girl over her refined mum,

With each night seeing the latter off with blames and punches over her untrusted womb,

And abandoning her to feed the unnoticed viable seed in the wild street.