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Who Cares
by T. Ashok Chakravarthy
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  The hot mid-noon summer days
The day after day starving hours
Bone-sucked and almost lifeless
There lay an orphan, motionless.

Watching him as rag-picker for years
Struggling to overcome childhood layers
His hassles, I witnessed now and then
Much of my inner-self he could influence.

Behind the layer of every trickling tear
The orphanage message hides and bears
Who cares, if to own fate one is thrown
Fate curtails life before any reality dawns.

Thoughts, into the past roll with a gallop
Relentless was the-then struggle to stop
A bit of fortune towards me had swung
To let open the doors of humane awakening.

Know, no enemy should ever face this agony
Love cannot be bought by any amount of penny
But penny is given a precious place by human
Who cares if death invites a beggar or an orphan?

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January 16, 2005
More By: T. Ashok Chakravarthy
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