Riches and Rags


 

A son is born to bloom.

Nectar he sucks in silver spoon.

Stagnant souls serve the news.

Aw! The Marshy waters wave in muse.

Ceremonial sacrifices served for longevity.

Wrinkled palms fold to bless.

 

A son born two and half decades back.

Burnt bread he gulps every day.

Sadist stunts serve the news.

Oh! Turbulent waters weep in muse.

Sticks and swear swords served for his caste.

‘Untouchable’! the blue-eyed word for the man-made caste.

 

Midas Touch, patronizes the gentry.

The Sidam Touch marks the masses.

 

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