The man within.. the man without......

is it remorse or my imagination of it....

whose reflection I often see in his eyes... 

but i have never felt upto it to approach him and ask him how he is today.... 

if he needs that extra shirt that i haven't worn since and have no use of...
the one i could gladly part with... but haven't parted with till now..

I wonder what his friends call him...
I wonder if he has any friends at all... 

may be he once had many.... many many years back...
when his visage was a little more orderly, a little more friendly perhaps..

but  i doubt if any of them are still in touch ..... 

he looks so utterly forlorn...


i pity him at times, his friendlessness... and wonder if he pities himself too... 

but i have never seen him cry... 

i have only seen his remorse eyes become stone-still at times...
he never begs... never asks for the essentials..

till yesterday he was in a loincloth but did not seem to bother much... 

today he is barely clad but better than yesterday... 

perhaps someone took pity and forwent that extra pair of pants that he had....

he wanders in the streets by the day

and sleeps on the cemented brick-lined path at night.....

i have noticed him thus and imagined my  story of him...

sometimes i wish to talk... 

or greet him the way i greet all others at work...

just look his way and share a nod perhaps...

but then i don't... 

i excuse myself saying.... he is better off his way..
why deter his acceptance of his life by a few frivolous acts...
but deep within i realise that my reasons are only an excuse....
an excuse to shelter the inhibitions that have been groomed into my being 

i stare at him thus... just like i did yesterday

imagining the infinite possibilities that lay hidden behind that dishevelled outer frame.