A silver boy he is,
Mini version of the father of the nation,
Loin cloth around his waist and bare footed he sat,
With the standard steel rimmed spectacles and a dirty green cap on his head,
Keeping his fast all day, excepting for a bottle of water,
Sitting on a dirty crowded street, amidst the loud noise of vehicles,
His only aim, to earn a note of the man he is dressed up as.
I clicked this picture while crossing the road, for a country that is proud of a man who managed to bring a revolution, all that we can use his image as, is a begging bowl for a child.