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The unconditional Love

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क्यू बोझ हो जाती है वह माँ अपने ही घर में । एक माँ अपने बेटे से मिलना चाहती है और बेटा के पास वक़्त नहीं है । आशा लगा कर बैठी है एक माँ की आज मेरा बेटा आयेगा । पर सच तो ये है की बूढ़ी होने पर एक बेटे के लिए माँ भी बोझ बन जाती है । #yqbaba #yqdidi #oldmemories #women #life #zindagi #oldwoman उम्र का तकाजा ही सब अपने भी भूल जाते है

क्यू बोझ हो जाती है वह माँ अपने ही घर में । एक माँ अपने बेटे से मिलना चाहती है और बेटा के पास वक़्त नहीं है । आशा लगा कर बैठी है एक माँ की आज मेरा बेटा आयेगा । पर सच तो ये है की बूढ़ी होने पर एक बेटे के लिए माँ भी बोझ बन जाती है । #yqbaba #yqdidi #oldmemories #women #life #zindagi #oldwoman उम्र का तकाजा ही सब अपने भी भूल जाते है

Diwa

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She sits down, weary; heart, already, gnarled. A day, outside, under the heat of the sun-- against the hostile stares, of passersby and relentless traffic aides; the everyday pursuit, of a few coins, to buy daily sustenance. With her withered smile and yielding demeanor, she tries to cajole passing youngsters--office yuppies, with their corporate coats, roguish skirts, and barely-there make ups-- to partake of her paltry offerings: candies, cigarettes, and stories. Then, she comes home, to her children: demanding her of food --thin tummies, left starving, the whole day; while she goes out, to work. Her, forgetting her own hunger; just to keep her children, alive. And, her grandkids. Walking, finding an old woman-- still working, selling cigarettes and candies. Chatted with her a bit. Finding out her story. Made it into a poem. We think, that our lives, are too difficult; yet, there are those who have it worse. #old #oldwoman #work #life #yqbaba

She sits down, weary; heart, already, gnarled. A day, outside, under the heat of the sun-- against the hostile stares, of passersby and relentless traffic aides; the everyday pursuit, of a few coins, to buy daily sustenance. With her withered smile and yielding demeanor, she tries to cajole passing youngsters--office yuppies, with their corporate coats, roguish skirts, and barely-there make ups-- to partake of her paltry offerings: candies, cigarettes, and stories. Then, she comes home, to her children: demanding her of food --thin tummies, left starving, the whole day; while she goes out, to work. Her, forgetting her own hunger; just to keep her children, alive. And, her grandkids. Walking, finding an old woman-- still working, selling cigarettes and candies. Chatted with her a bit. Finding out her story. Made it into a poem. We think, that our lives, are too difficult; yet, there are those who have it worse. #old #oldwoman #work #life #yqbaba

Diwa

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a good-for-nothing scoundrel, approached by an old woman, needing help; the old lady needs her damaged roof patched up; typhoon approaching fast; the goon leaves his drink, quickly; takes some water to lessen his drunken state; with no pay to receive; only 'thank you' as the wage; helps the woman, gladly; thereby, proving that even a person, thought of badly, has a soft spot; if we take time to see it. #scoundrel #oldwoman #help #goodness #yqbaba

a good-for-nothing scoundrel, approached by an old woman, needing help; the old lady needs her damaged roof patched up; typhoon approaching fast; the goon leaves his drink, quickly; takes some water to lessen his drunken state; with no pay to receive; only 'thank you' as the wage; helps the woman, gladly; thereby, proving that even a person, thought of badly, has a soft spot; if we take time to see it. #scoundrel #oldwoman #help #goodness #yqbaba

Diwa

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a tired old woman sits beside me. her hands are gnarled and rough. her hair is a knot of silver, with a few remaining ebony strands. she glances at me and then i see, endless pools of stories-- of trials, of experience, of grief. i think she doesn't even notice me; as she stares far beyond the lee-- worrying about things, it seems. her shoes aren't new. her garments look faded and aged. i see the difficult life she has. she stands up and walks to the waiting cashier and pays. she draws a few coins from her pocket; one, two, three, she counts. the moment she finishes paying, she slowly walks away. i hastily call and approach her, while i say: "auntie, forgive my intrusion; but, may i help you in any way? i see the tiredness in you. mayhap, you'll do me the honor, of having coffee with me." she looks at me and smiles, sadly. she nods her head and says, "thank you, dear one, for offering. i'd love to; yet, i must be on my way." i take her hand, gently, and slip her some money, i have. she looks surprised; her eyes glisten with tears. i walk away, quickly; so, she cannot give the money back to me. "dear one, God bless you. thank you for this," i hear her whisper, as i leave. we can always help others, in our own little way. #oldwoman #old #poor #help #love #observation #yqbaba #diwa

a tired old woman sits beside me. her hands are gnarled and rough. her hair is a knot of silver, with a few remaining ebony strands. she glances at me and then i see, endless pools of stories-- of trials, of experience, of grief. i think she doesn't even notice me; as she stares far beyond the lee-- worrying about things, it seems. her shoes aren't new. her garments look faded and aged. i see the difficult life she has. she stands up and walks to the waiting cashier and pays. she draws a few coins from her pocket; one, two, three, she counts. the moment she finishes paying, she slowly walks away. i hastily call and approach her, while i say: "auntie, forgive my intrusion; but, may i help you in any way? i see the tiredness in you. mayhap, you'll do me the honor, of having coffee with me." she looks at me and smiles, sadly. she nods her head and says, "thank you, dear one, for offering. i'd love to; yet, i must be on my way." i take her hand, gently, and slip her some money, i have. she looks surprised; her eyes glisten with tears. i walk away, quickly; so, she cannot give the money back to me. "dear one, God bless you. thank you for this," i hear her whisper, as i leave. we can always help others, in our own little way. #oldwoman #old #poor #help #love #observation #yqbaba #diwa

Zulqarnain Zilli

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चुप थे بڑھاپا دکھوں نے ستایا ہمیں اس قدر کہ بڑھاپے کی سردی بھی ہمیں تندوتیز سورج کے جیسے جلاتی رہی۔ ازقلم ذوالقرنین ذلی ©Zulqarnain Zilli #oldwoman #burhapa #zulqarnainzillipoetry #zulqarnainzilli prashu pandey Hanif QamarAbadi Fatima Ali ★Zk mømîñ★

चुप थे بڑھاپا دکھوں نے ستایا ہمیں اس قدر کہ بڑھاپے کی سردی بھی ہمیں تندوتیز سورج کے جیسے جلاتی رہی۔ ازقلم ذوالقرنین ذلی ©Zulqarnain Zilli #oldwoman #burhapa #zulqarnainzillipoetry #zulqarnainzilli prashu pandey Hanif QamarAbadi Fatima Ali ★Zk mømîñ★

Nitish kumar poddar Ni

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#oldwoman sketch

#oldwoman sketch

Nojoto Art

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Art of the day by Nitesh Chauhan keep share your talent with us. #nojotoart #portrait #oldwoman #keepitup

Art of the day by Nitesh Chauhan keep share your talent with us. #nojotoart #portrait #oldwoman #keepitup