A newspaper vendor wander every morning,

To our doorsteps and different newspapers

He drops through all thick and thins

Rainy days or winter haze

He arrives on his motor bike!

With a huge grin on his chin!!

One morning, I asked him:

How far he comes from?

He smiled to pass a reply-

Says he wakes up early dawn

and collects his stacks of papers from his dealer,

Then his journey begins all the way long through

Shantinagar, Baneswore, Koteswore, Gwarko to Lalitpur- Dhapakhel,

Where I live and would have return home by eleven each morning.

In rainy days, he comes wearing a large rain-coat,

Making it a drain for the rain covering his stuff

But, he doesn't forget his grin

He is so conscious that the paper would go waste.

So, he honks his horn to call us

Or simply looks a place  where he can hide it.

For me, he is not just a Paperwala,

But a perfect Messiah,

As he bring knowledge, Source of information

Without any regression, to make us enlighten!

And so, when sometimes I meet him,

He greets-'Morning  Sir!'

I salute him silently with due respect

In my heart for his favor!!!