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I saw the big anonymous man,
With silvery spots on his body:
He felt insensible to pain,
His fingers were…
As if cut-short from the middle
He stood in front of a bungalow,
Waiting for the coins to be dropped,
In his out-stretched bowl,
But they closed the gate on his face,
As if he is a contagious man.
With anger, hate and contempt,
Over his country men,
He moved away from the spot
To stretch his bowl again
In front of a “chawl”.
I saw ‘rays of hope’
Kindling on his sad face
As he walked down the path of chawl,
Though a man of endurance, he is,
Never could he cross,
The mental barricade
Of the Society
And he felt let down – always
By his own country men.
Enduring the humility and alienation
From the Society,
Gloominess hovering over them,
Envisaging a better tomorrow,
He and his folks just lived on….
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