O Sir, in your big black car.
Why don't you roll down the window?
Let the air-conditioner rest for some time.
It's hot and dry outside, but isn't it beautiful too?
O Sir, we know your boots are expensive.
You wouldn't want to step on our dirty dusty land.
But you too must have run barefoot once upon a time
Before you became so rich, so grand!
Don't scrunch your nose like that, dear Sir.
Our faces aren't as pretty as your children's are.
We too don't like these bellies of ours, the way they stick out.
Mother doesn't wash us everyday, no water in the house.
Yes, come here, the view is perfect.
Look at that parched soil there,
This is where our green fields used to be.
Look at that well over there.
No need to peep in, it's now empty.
And there far away among the bushes is where
Our father was found hanging on a tree.
He left us hungry.
Now, they tell us stories with you as the hero
Who would bring us food in his magic bag.
But we see your hands are empty, and your eyes are cold.
You have no roti for us, you only have lots of gold.
And though they say that you have promised you will make our lives good
We won't tug at your clean white shirt to beg you for food.
We have mud in our hands, and it tastes like grain.
You won't like to try it, so you won't know.
But we will lick it off our palms like we do everyday, and have our fill.
And we'll let you go.
We'll let you go.
http://www.hindustantimes.com/Mud-for-meals-SC-damns-UP/Article1-549540.aspx
