Nothun (New) Bazaar

A maze of stores and open stalls sell all sorts of goods:
silk saris fluttering in the breeze like butterflies,
bangles and well-crafted jewelry shimmering under the blazing sun,
beauty products promising eternal youth and radiance,
ethnic food sizzling in the pans and cool drinks waiting for customers.
Haggling between buyers and sellers creates
a buzz of noise like the humming of a horde of bees.
The aroma of spices mingles with the odor of urine.
Twig-skinny rickshaw drivers pedal shoppers back and forth,
a bumpy ride caused by uneven, cracked streets.
Among the multitude, hardly noticed,
is the ragged woman with the dirt-streaked face
carrying her runny-nosed child like a burden.
The burden, wearing a tattered, oversized t-shirt, cries
as the woman implores the crowd to spare some change.
More noticeable is the legless man,
dragging himself with his arms on a board with wheels.
People ignore them rather than face their misfortune.
Does no one have the heart
to give these people
a morsel of their needs?