Child Labor
I wonder, sitting in the corner,
mulling over the child cleaning tabletop for the owner;
Owner of the shop where i am drinking tea,
And feeling sad about the boy's plea.
I rose from my seat-
Moving ahead with trembling feet.
Then offered him a piece of cake,
Which he took gloomily and mutely ate.
As if his eyes questioning me:
“Could this piece of cake,
Change my unfortunate fate?
Is this really the ending of my all work and toil?
Will I be able to play like other (children) on the same soil?”
I could feel his desire’s ocean,
I was moved by his seamless notions.
I wish I could write sweet memories on his life’s pages,
Wish I could free him from entanglements, the bondages.
How he desired of getting freedom from his master’s rule:
And how he must be longing to go to school!!
Desire that I could stop his sufferings, agony and pain,
Could lessen his grief, could save his life passing in vain.
Every child hath the privileges to live thou childhood the ingenuous way:-
But the innumerable innocent questions remain unanswered.
Undiscovered – the child’s mind so curious,
Alas! The vice of old brains created child labor:
The unjust thought itself makes me so furious.
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