// On Half baked life //
They don't ask for rich bungalows to live,
All they seek for is food to fill their tummy twice a day.
If you don't want to help, that's Okay,
But please don't bury HUMANITY.
In this lockdown you might have
felt like being in home is a boring task,
For them platforms where you shouldn't go is home.
All days, they keep lamenting about the life they are gifted with. "A life fearing each day about tomorrow."
Everyday they grow out of cravings for a piece of bread,
Maa, do we have something to eat today? Asks her son.
Alas! The poor maa couldn't fill their stomach today.
Her daughter is just 11, at the age when education
is mandatory, she's sent to work in grocery shops
and asked to sell books during traffic.
I know, she has always wanted to study, but
life has presented her such a circumstance.
Wide eyes, Skinny arms, wondering about the
crime they have committed for being punished
to be a poor. They have no tears left in eyes, to cry.
For now, all they have is HOPE that god will listen
to their sobs one day. They look at the sky each day,
Questioning their existence. How many more
days will god make them sleep in platforms
with mosquito bites and torn dress.
Their wounds cannot be healed,
their scars creates drought in world.
If they ask for any help to rich,
They'll be treated like the dirt of their doormat.
The irony of our life is POVERTY.
Her eyes only has a spark of tears,
As a wallet passes by,
Her bowl raises up seeking for help,
Ending up being treated as no lesser than trash.
What sin did they make to be born as such in this world?
They have tasted all flavors of famine.
Embrace them as much as you can.
They are also a part of us.
A part of our family.
A part of our lives.
A part of our world.