You would have witnessed many an instance of child labor, its associated humanitarian crisis and felt sorry for the victims. Written with a heavy heart, this poem presents an alternate take on their life. It celebrates the indestructible spirit of those who come from nothing and hence, have nothing to lose.
Against the backdrop of the night sky,
Million sparkles and a deep sigh,
Bold patch of dull beauty,
Puffs of floating dreams,
Fortified in the Holy sanctity.
Mutilated little fingers churn the naked rills,
Drop pebbles in illusions of dancing frills.
One stone and one wish,
Amusements of strange kinds,
One night and one fish.
Doesn’t bother them the languish of torn rags,
Who cares for the aching stomach, the empty bags?
Wild berries and croaking toads;
Darkness isn’t their enemy,
It’s an alibi on watched roads.
Survival isn’t a battle for them; it’s a game.
They chase their target, the prey. They aim
For the moon and shoot like the stars.
Pity isn’t your word for them,
When you are dying in your own wars.
Soon the night would fall and end the play,
Bricks on their heads would begin their day.
Smiles would still, through the heat, vaporise the sweat;
But they don’t care. They know:
What they want, they will get.
Misguided souls and the tranny of fools:
This might be your way to rule, today.
But know this that
No flowers can be plucked away
From seeds that germinate every day.
I hope this poem gave you something to think about. And if you want to stay just a little bit longer with it, the podcast for this is available here.
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