I am poor
thereby being brahman matters
I migrated from one state to another
only hopes matter, as i am hoping to feed my family
I am not a politician but met one
he matters, as he made me priest in a road side temple
Feed feeds into asking for respect
I am a priest, i need to have one to serve the god
I got respect, money, food and family
my definitions are different as once i was poor
I stay in slum
but it is my wonderland
All of a sudden jostle of politics shook me
one politician switched the sides from temple to development
Temple’s temple and my temple was the target
one got demolished and another bruised
Had heard persuasiveness is a skill
so I kept praying daily and my father selling samosas on the sides of broken dreams
nothing bore fruit, pavement got widened
development took place and crushed the dreams of poor brahmin
Lost my standing as god’s temple left my side
kids skipped school and food became privileged again

I have choices to make
Aham Brahmadaitya

I am not going to be a poor brahmin

Source: real life events
About: monologue story of a migrant brahman who went from being penniless to priest to a thief

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