Friday, September 25, 2009
Once a month, twice a month,
many a festival to celebrate.
Fasting at times from dawn to dusk,
Feasting in joy for the rest.
Silk Saree's rustling in pomp,
Shimmering bangles chatter along.
Scent of jasmine flowers,
Aroma of ghee oozing sweets.
Ramadan, Diwali and Christmas,
Religions do not matter.
Gifts given in plenty,
to make everyone happy.
Spirit of celebration in the air,
filling warmth and joy everywhere.
Over there in a Little shack,
sweating over a greasy pack,
rough hands at work as always,
washing away dust on scooters.
Dents and grease fill their life,
fighting for food their only fate,
Celebrations do not matter here,
for those called the filthy poor.
Posted by Iniyaal at 9/25/2009 10:16:00 AM