How long can we keep paying, for other people’s crime?
This was the welcome I got at Asha Dham,
I felt like a chicken, entering a poultry farm.
Geeta didi was kind to get me here,
Children to her were indeed very dear.
She picked me up from the train, when she heard me cry,
Someone had just left me there, to wait until I die.
I don’t know If I should call it a lucky escape,
Or should I just term it, interference with my fate?
She was a social worker, I hate those kinds.
They make you see hope, when reality blinds.
I live here now with my fellow inmates,
We share our bathrooms and our distorted fates.
We survive daily on a biscuit and two slices of bread,
Our matrons are the demons, all of us dread.
Questioning their generosity, I once sinned, I asked for more biscuits,
They showered their love, fed me till I was full, with punches and kicks.
We’re living our childhood, It’s such a fairy tale,
Just the fairy’s missing, demons prevail!
We read no books, sing no songs, and we play with no toy,
At times we smile, to remind ourselves, of the existence of joy.
Rani was taken away two days back, I lost a friend,
Girls missing from our ‘home’ is a routine trend.
Gone is my friend, her hopes of a secure life, now lie smashed,
Rani was the bearer cheque, they had happily encashed.
I had heard stories of my other friends Raju & Latif,
One’s now a disabled beggar and the other one a thief.
Munna was taken to the hospital the other day,
For an hour on the hospital bed, unconscious he lay,
He wasn’t sick, we didn’t know why he was taken there,
We later realised, he had a kidney to spare!
I moan in despair not knowing whom to blame,
Is there a way, I can quit this game?
The recurring thought floods my mind,
Why was I born as a wretched little swine?
How long can I keep paying for other people’s crime?
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