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Gaurav Gurung Aug 2024
On the periphery of Delhi, I recollect as I was on a tour,
A boundary barred the rich metropolitan society and the hellish slums,
My eyes, they landed on a barefoot group of boys- four,
Hello! I called out, they immediately scattered and greeted me with a joyous smile.

Their leader was the smartest little man I've ever encountered,
Raju was his name- full of energy, life and joy
He took a liking towards my golden watch which was a bit tattered,
I gave it to him and I swear I've never seen a much happier boy

His friends congratulated him as it was the most luxurious thing in their inventory,
Poor kids- the state and class in which they were born was pure involuntary,
I asked him, What is your dream, Raju? What is it that you desire?
He smirked and said, A lifestyle, a job, some money is what I want to acquire.

I ponder, the things we call basic necessity are their basic tools of "survival",
The things we discard and waste are their means of revival,
What do we lack? The latest devices? A less comfortable bed?
Poor fellas don't even have a roof over their heads!

I ask him, Raju, what is it that you want to be?
He says, I want to be like our Saheb- successful and rich,
I ask him, How will you do that? His eyes squinched- he gave a twitch,
He was blank and clueless about how his torn destiny he could stitch!

In retrospect, I was blank too as to what was my purpose,
I realised that I had no visions as well, I was worthless,
I gazed upon their innocent wandering faces and made up my mind,
My dream was to be an educator and teach those whom I could find!

That day a conversation changed me forever,
It changed the way I thought and saw the world,
It changed me and with my old self, I rebelled,
That day, "The Vision of a gentleman" moved me,
It changed my carefree attitude, it improved me,
It changed "The old me", it constituted "The New me"
Poverty is prevalent in every society and is not easily curable, it's not the children's fault that they were born into poor households..... Not a propagandic poem, it's just a poem about retrospection and a conversation with a poor boy
Gaurav Gurung Aug 2024
He asks me, what is humanity? I tell him;
We are as vast as a field of meadow,
Like the countless flowers that bloom,
Each of us, a different variety of flower,
Some, like the roses- Beauty with thorns,
Some, like the sunflowers- Guided by direction,
Some, like the tulips- Beauty with diversity,
Some, like the daisies- Innocent and jolly,
Some, like the lotuses- Adapting in harsh floras.

He asks me again, what is humanity? I tell him;
We are as spread as the distant Star field,
Like the countless stars that radiate,
Each of us shine and emit our own power,
Some shine brighter, their beauty we adorn,
Some are black, some white, all beautiful- God’s creation,
Some morph into comets! Such complexity,
Some are never discovered in the vast void- Not Golly!
Some radiate excellence, Differing are their auras.

He’s awestruck! Taken back by the beauty of humanity,
“However, there’s a catch”, I say
Humanity is as dead as a graveyard,
Such a hurtful place it is, containing a silence that kills silence,
A place so sinister, it breeds violence,
Arena of corruption, A colosseum of hatred,
Humanity is such a place which destroys the sacred,
“Who kills their mother?” Simply – Humanity,
You wouldn’t want to go there! It’s a ticket to insanity,
Humanity is as dead as graveyard! They **** their own kind,
Believe me boy, It’s not for your gullible mind!
A fictional poetic discussion between a father and his son... A brief philosophical insight into the poet's views about humanity! Enjoy folks

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