He was struggling to sleep because of the sweltering night

The only recourse was the hard and firm seat of rickshaw

While tossing and turning

He did not realize that the bright glow of sun had arrived

Irked by the sundry ants

He finally stood up

After another restless night

After another day of the torment known as life

He set to work

This was the onset of stultification

The daily rut was like a demonic captor

A captor who trapped the rickshaw puller

In the dystopia of workaholism

He was clad in tattered and sweat drenched vest and baggy trouser

These were the only clothes he possessed

His skin had coarsened

He was now gaunt and cadaverous

His profession was slowly devouring him

He saw two Falstaffian ladies nearing his rickshaw

For him, some ample amount of happiness was coming

The rickshaw puller- so dazzled by the meagre pay- forgot to question why he was skeletal and they were plump

So much blinded by the illuminating glow of the meagre pay

He forgot to question that

Why they were going to buy myriad couture

And why he was wearing the same rags for the past five years

                                                                                ~ Yanis Iqbal

                                                                                    Aligarh, India