Just as always,
I was with my bhaiya,
walking beside him
like I have since childhood;
matching his steps,
listening to his half-finished stories,
letting the day pass quietly.
There was a thought in my mind.
Soft.
Unspoken.
Lingering like a cloud
that refuses to rain.
And then, I saw her…
A small girl
standing high above the ground,
her feet resting on a thin rope
that looked too weak
to hold even a dream.
The wind moved.
The rope shook.
My heart did too.
But she did not.
Step by step,
she walked;
not like a performer,
but like someone carrying
an entire home on her shoulders.
Her tiny hands stretched out
not for balance alone,
but as if holding
invisible responsibilities.
The world below her
felt loud and careless.
But up there,
it was just her
and survival.
Bhaiya’s voice came gently,
almost like a truth the air already knew;
“This is how she balances her survival.”
Balances her survival.
How strange those words felt.
How powerful.
For some,
life is a road.
For her,
life is a rope.
For some,
the sky is meant for dreaming.
For her,
the sky is where she earns bread.
I kept looking at her,
wondering how someone so small
could carry something so big.
There was still a thought in my mind.
But now it had tears in it.
Not tears of pity.
But tears of realization.
Because in her trembling steps
I didn’t see weakness.
I saw love;
so fierce
that even fear had to step aside.
And as we walked away,
the world looked the same
but I wasn’t.
Somewhere inside me,
something had shifted.
That day,
I didn’t just see a girl on a rope
I saw courage
walking barefoot
between hunger and hope
And the thought in my mind
was no longer searching
It’s just became a emotion
