Thursday, 22 May 2014

Little Feet in Dump Yards


The train chugs into another concrete mass that promises dreams,

those holed up in the high cubicles don’t look down it seems.

How the pace of life and burden of expectations weighs down,

as the dark allies, corners, streets blur in the dazzle of tinsel town.



See through the charade of malls, flyovers and high rises,

sift through the filth, the slums, the rot, that everyone despises.

In those realms of hopelessness, struggle and abject misery,

shall you find smiling faces, tiny little feet, bare but satisfactory.



Half torn shirts, dirty feet, rough hands, oblivious to the city around,

Expectations burden, families shouldered, their solace lies in dump grounds.

Run, play, sleep, earn in what others refuse to use,

Sans books, schools, uniforms, their world painted in harsh hues.



Rejection awaits at every step, as they face the world on their own,

in cities filled with millions of people, they find themselves alone.

Yet as their tears run dry, they toil away, smiling, searching for their bliss,

as those little feet roam in dump yards, innocence isn’t lost, but childhood is.


 ©Copyright Darshil A Shastri


1 comment: