Every season is unbearable A photo frame with an image of a grand building stood out like a protest banner. A protest against the abandonment of the state. Of the claim of the homeless to a dream at least. A child came running towards it. 바카라My father put it there,바카라 he said. 바카라Where is your home?바카라 I asked. 바카라Look there,바카라 he said. Behind the frame, a tattered tarpaulin sheet stretched over a mini world of belongings and a lot of discarded items from others. The father wasn바카라t around. Mohammad Fukan, a cleaner, said the people who live on that particular pavement across the grand hotel, The Lodhi, are mostly beggars and rag-pickers. The photo frame must have been one of those discards. 바카라We can dream about houses like these. Dreams are free,바카라 he said. 바카라It must be cooler inside those rooms.바카라 With all this heat that the concrete emits on days like these, the homeless say it is difficult to breathe sometimes. 바카라We sprinkle water on the ground,바카라 he said. No electricity, no roof and just a pavement and a lot of sky is what these poor have. 바카라In this city, people like us wait for the season to change. We wait endlessly. Every season is unbearable,바카라 he said. 바카라I don바카라t know what climate change is. But to wait for the next season, knowing it will bring no respite is what it could be,바카라 he said. Do those houses feel nice in this hellish heat? The child asked this as he pointed to the domed building in the frame. Photograph: Chinki Sinha