He was about ten
In a shabby earthy way cute
Silently opening the rubbish chute
Of a multi-storeyed building.
The woman on the first floor –
The one who often worships
The stray cows
Even at the risk of being hit –
Tried to shoo him.
His pilfering the garbage did irk
Her and me.
Her – maybe out of possessiveness,
Me – sheer outrage.
Ignoring us, on the floor
Coolly he kept his sack of loot,
Full of plastic bits, polythene
Bottles and usual metallic whit,
And patted the water of the open drain
Wiped on his dirty large shirt
– There, his hands were clean.
“These rich people are mean.”
On my mental screen
The familiar images flash of kids
Wearing white uniforms
Caps red and green moving in rows
Parents happily bearing the cost
Of unnecessary ties and bows –
The distinguishing paraphernalia –
Of public schools.
“The Karmas, the Karmas are to be blamed
For being lowly born.”
This explanation their conscience blunts
Saves them from facing the alternative –
Of finding ways to obliterate social inequality
– So this seemingly innocuous Karma-Kola they sip
And leisurely through life they trip.
—
Poetry lover? Check out Gitanjali: A Collection of Indian Poems by the Nobel Laureate
