Sunday 12 June 2011

Seven Grains of Rice


Seven grains of rice left for me to sow,

One for the boy with eyes like snow,
as he walks into the road with toys he is selling,
clothes tattered but a will that does not bow,
 as he touches the cars and bikes in passing,
ears keenly tuned to the horns as they blow,
when the traffic lights keep changing.

One for the little girl as she plays in the sand,
of the construction site in the shadow of the tree,
as her mother balances her load with her hand,
keeping an eye on the urchin as she roams free,
waving a stick like she was a fairy with a wand,
and the power to change the world with her decree.

One for the lad who stands outside the gate,
of the mall where he sells his flowers woven into a braid,
seeing the family as they stagger under the weight,
of the bags they carry worth tons of money that they paid,
and their words that he has grown to detest and hate,
about how expensive a bunch of flowers can be made.

One for the old lady withered with age,
eyes clouded and peering at dim shapes,
as she sits outside the temple in her dotage,
limbs trembling as she toothlessly gapes,
and wonders how money which is offered as homage,
for her suddenly does the bottom of the barrel scrape.

One for the lanky and weatherbeaten man in his stand,
as he  sells his puchkas under the blazing sun,
having left his town for the dream of the promised land,
now has become part of the city, dusted and done,
watching each dream crumble like the puchka in his hand,
but cannot still go back home for fear of being the failed son.

One for the lady who waits, fingers worn to the bone,
baby at her breast and a brood swarming around,
the makeshift shack of hoardings that she calls home,
dreaming of a day she would be a queen crowned,
a mansion in which her kids would freely roam,
but is brought back to earth as the kids' wail unbound.

One for all of us who see these sights every day,
at every corner, every street of this big bad city,
and uncaring, unfeeling, turn our faces away,
as if that might shut out the dark grim reality,
that holds all us hapless beings in it's sway,
and leaves us feeling grimy, soiled and gritty.