They call it a slum we call it a home
I was shocked, how could they survive in a town built on sewer lines, packed with zillion flies.
Sunlight seemed to lose its character. Mud, its colour to creeping chemical and plastics.
Shacks to small for a healthy kid. Perhaps, that is why toxicity has made them so tiny and feeble.
I met a flock of kids playing marbles. Some bare off clothes and some in faded rags. Every angle, every moment and every shot I took was still beautiful these kids seemed to bypass the "decisive moment "law and rendered amazing smile per click.
It was a fraction of energy, an artless love, unconditional love, resilience and promise.