The Lies of Fathers

When I die In a slum in Bombay My relatives cannot find my house They have to walk through the mud Up to their thighs Thousands of eyes watching their every step There is no house Only a cardboard roof with no furniture The public toilet is up the street No flush and shared No grocery store Only rotten food in the garbage They cannot find a coffin To their surprise My body will be wrapped In used plastic bags Mixed with old rice and fish Why did he do this To us? He was such an honorable man We did not see him in the last 10 years And thought he had a nice house With lots of artwork And a walk-in fridge That’s what his emails said So we didn’t check Now we have to put up With this mess Why did he do this To us? We are his children Touching his silken boxer shorts Of which he was proud With a dead ***** inside With an ******** Even when dead May be emails don’t tell the whole story And cannot be trusted He posted other people’s pictures On Facebook He looked happy Why go and see him When he was alive We will build a shrine for him And donate some money To the slum for a toilet upgrade We will forget him soon As his life was full of secrets