I stopped my car on a crossroad;
Waiting for the red light to turn green;
When suddenly my eyes froze over a sight;
A frail old man fighting with his plight.
His shabby clothes, his frowsy hair;
His skeletonous body, his broken spectacles;
Said it all.
A poor old man, hunting trash for food to eat;
Gashed by adversity;
Deprived by destiny.
I opened my car door, moved out;
Realizing, I could help him out.
I asked if he wanted some money;
He refused and turned his head away.
A tear trickled down his cheek;
A hot lump rushed down my throat, I felt weak.
I insisted to help;
He told me to sit.
“I have been living here for twenty years;
Feeding on filth, fighting for life.
But no one has ever come to give me respite;
To give me cloth;
To give me food;
To mend these broken glasses of mine.”
I offered him some alms;
He was agonized, he got red;
“All you well-offs do this;
Give us money and go away;
But have you ever thought?
Have you ever thought what we feel,
When someone treats us like animals and avoids us even with his feet?
We are humans, not dogs;
We are like you all;
Only we have less and you have more.”
I was left speechless;
And thought how cruel we are.
I climbed into my car and drove it ahead;
But the old man’s words had stuck in my head.
There are many such old men;
Many such poor men;
Who die on roadsides;
Unnoticed, unsung;
Just because they have less and we have more.
Swapan Deep Singh
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/because-they-have-less-and-we-have-more/
