The child shivers when the cold wind blows… forced to spend the night under the open sky

Symbolic image.

This cold night, this wandering, this burden of sleep, if we were in our city we would have gone home… This lion by Umaid Fazli is very close to my heart. The month of December is bound to be a bit fragile. The caravan of memories collides with the cold wind. Old memories keep running like fire in the mind. You will see some pictures below. Hidden within these images are stories of helplessness that only they know. No writer in the world can put their helplessness into words.

But after seeing some pictures, it seems that those who don’t have a roof, where will they go. Many poets have written about the helplessness of Muflisi, but it seems that where the pen stops, the real story begins. North India including Delhi-NCR is under cold spell. Mercury has dropped to 1 degree.

Although love is not dependent on any date, month, yet the expression of love in the pen of poets is different this winter. But in this season poverty wails. A mother, who has no roof, no clothes to protect her son from the cold, cries helplessly with an innocent child wrapped in tattered cloths on the pavement.

When the cold wind blows, the child remains cold, at night the mother burns her son’s board... What better way can you describe this situation. These lines of Sibat Ali Sabah are a complete story in themselves.

When the breath of words breaks, when the pen itself breaks, when the situation goes from bad to worse..Believe me, this is the truth that no writer can write. Today we have such a story of coercion in front of our eyes, it seems that we are helpless with them.

In the shadow of poverty, the father leaves for the destination in the dark of the fog in the morning with a towel tied around his face and ears, hoping to save his children from this weather by bringing half a kilo. Coal in the evening. A mother goes, collects the garbage, brings it back, burns and roasts her child’s body.

Whenever the arms and legs are baked in front of the heater with a thick cloth, the question comes to mind, those who have nothing to cover their body, how will they survive in this severe cold?

But call it compulsion or helplessness, they spend their days cursing their fate in such a climate. Most of these people came from outside from other cities and states. He has a house in his own village, but where did he get the money to live there? Two meals of bread can make a man do anything. Otherwise, who would like to spend the night on Belibas footpath on a cold winter night.