I dined some nights on rice borrowed,
At a village grain shop had an overdraft,
I went there at dreary dusk,
In stealthy steps, at hour dark,
Clinging on to my little brother’s supportive hand ,
A basket of anxieties writ all over our weary forehead,
Fleeing from our Dad’s lenders on prowl,
At every nook, a shadow, bamboo tall,
The shopkeeper bent, stooped, so kind yet,
His deformed, toothless smile does memory hurt-
He never sought repayment,
Knowing our unknown fate,
Whispered me to study hard,
Never a word of slight or plight,
We owe a debt, to accumulate,
The trust and its interest.
I now search for him, to repay.
The shop has disappeared.
He was too kind to last.