Those Footsteps

Showered for minutes and the place is repelled,
Foot impressions of kids and cattle,
Looks as if they fight an unnamed battle,
Somehow their life is sustained. 


Those steps could have been invisible
on a nice plain road,
The steps could have been approaching
a school,
The steps carry a bucket of mud
as an illusive water to bathe,
The steps is what our feet hates. 


A little we know about them, a lot we feel about;
A little they know, in which country they live;
A little they know, of where those steps will lead;
A little they think, what's their need. 


Compelled, resisted and diseased with poverty;
Yet they always wish of only pity.
Pity gives them food, pity gives them clothes;
In return they give their ignorant votes.


Unfortunate that you fight for an uncertain tomorrow,
Irony that you're that diamond which won't shine,
Will take an eternity for someone to hear your pain,
Keep looking for some angel to drop in the chain.

Ganga

So what is it ? 

Does it make you pure? 

You are not a sinner now! 

Are you bound to believe that somehow ? 

Do we must walk on fire to feel the cold ? 

Does everyone do it before getting old ? 

Who feeds whom in the process ? 

Why someone dies for food or success ? 

Do I have to dip in, to achieve greatness, 

What else is madness ? 

Are we killing the spirit to learn ? 

Or driven by someone to earn. 

Does choosing always matters? 

What about someone whose dream always shatters? 

Does killing have the same meaning? 

Why do they call it a war when it crosses the limit? 

Stepping back, when you cry, 

Does it actually satisfy? 

If getting the sympathy is what you look for, 

Then what were you bravely fighting for? 

Did you forget the reason for your pain? 

Come get some more - it won't go in vain.