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His two years old son
Needed treatment for stomach pain
But he had no money
His wife needed to pursue
Her BA course
He couldn't afford to
I can't help he would say
I must be happy with what I have
He would say to himself
Somewhat stoically


But his days were otherwise happy

Ferrying people between 
Two metro railway stations
In his motorized auto-rickshaw

The road was straight and bare
Just earn and live from hand to mouth
A youth of twenty  with no anxiety

The season changed

One day after dropping the last passenger
His eyes fell on a purse lying in the rear seat
Inside it, he found some cards
A bundle of currency notes
One lakh Indian rupees
That would amount to
Around eight hundred dollars


For the first time
He was on crossroads
The right-hand road he looked at
The right brain itched
Lucrative and lovely
The left-hand one looked logical
Take care it warned
The left brain he scratched

Folds on the forehead

The choice was difficult
Unlike Robert Frost

Perhaps the purse owner 
Had withdrawn the money from a bank
To meet some emergency 
He rationalized


Rummaging the purse 
He got a useful telephone number
He dialed it

Answered a suave voice
The caller narrated how he had got the purse
The responder melted in gratefulness

" I am busy in my office.
My wife will see you in an hour. 
Do please visit us one day and have  lunch
with us"

Handsome looking
Auto-rickshaw owner smiled
Looked still further handsome

Mrs. Dasgupta arrived at the appointed hour
He returned the purse
A month later she gave him a return gift

It was almost a love at first sight

This time
He was at a really difficult crossroads




September 17, 2019

Crossroads Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Silent One

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