We struggle to exist and want to make our living comfortable by our livelihood; no matter how it is. Among us, a few of those work hard which sometimes makes me emotional about their lives. One of those is the street hawkers selling their goods all season by adopting rain, heat, and natural disasters. They are bound to come out to the way to get earned for the day.
I live in a rural area where street hawkers often pass my house shouting to sell their wares. While this is customary, at times, the voice of a hawker triggers a sensation in me, and my emotions are drawn towards it. I don't know why, but it transports me to a new imaginary world where I can feel their struggles for survival, existential angst, and exhaustion.
In the high heat of summer, when everything seems to be still and quiet, a curd seller often passes my door, calling out in a hoarse voice. Despite his efforts, no one seems to respond to him, and his voice fades away into the distance. While his curd provides temporary relief from the heat, it's a massive struggle for the curd seller to find an oasis in the desert of his life. He could use his cold curd, but life was not so easy for him. The cold curd is for others, although he bears the load of all the curd and is exhausted, but that curd is for others, not for him. This is the life.
Did you feel the same? Share your experience here. Also please let me know, what you feel about the painting.
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