Home CULTURE Creative Writing Being Human

Being Human


There was something special in his eyes
The little boy who stared at me,
From behind the dirty tea-stall…
There was something he wanted to say,
As he brought me a cup of tea.

I looked into his painful eyes
And gave him a smile
He didn’t smile back, but held his gaze…
He had brown eyes and a perky nose
Resting on his innocent face…

I asked him his name,
But helplessly he kept staring at me
I soon discovered he had no choice
He could not hear a word
And neither had his voice.

He was an outcast,
A burden to the family.
He was made to fulfill their dreams
He could not protest
He accepted his duty.

His eight years of life brought him no smile
He was doomed to a life of labor
But there was something deep in his heart
Unsaid, unheard, never to be let out
To be kept hidden, forever.

Maybe a day would come,
For him to realize his silent dreams
He could not speak, and perhaps never can
But he had all that he needed
The feeling of being human…

We welcome your comments at letters@friedeye.com

Previous articleKrishna’s Flute
Next articleEverything You Say
A freelance journalist by profession and a writer by passion. Born and brought up in Tezpur, Assam. An alumni of Tezpur University. An active member of the Rotaract Club of Tezpur Yuva. True to the characteristics of a true Geminian, she is an ardent communicator, loves to talk and spends her time watching movies, reading novels and indulging in creative writing. A lover of music and pursues singing as a hobby. An optimist by nature and loves to wear a smile on her face. She can also be reached at her website Misteerious Mind(mistee9.wordpress.com.)