They were sixteen in the family
Sharing one chappati amongst them;
But the house in the capital
Had a lavish supper.
When it rained hard,
They had nothing to wear;
Only a small roof to be shared;
But thou after a nap
Got up, stared at the window
And said 'Perhaps it rained! '
When festive time came,
Thou prepared for celebrations
With new wear and plenty to eat;
But for them its nothing more than a nightmare
With nothing to wear
And hardly anything to satisfy their hunger.
Thy preserve thine innocence
And learn the ethics at school;
But at the age of holding pen,
He holds a bowl adding to his livelihood
Making him a likely goon.
Can't thou be a bit liberal;
Give away thy extravagance
For them who dream
But reality supresses their desires.