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The boy stood scantily-clad
Dressed in tatters,surrounded by rags,
He stood and stared at the ever expansive blue sky.
Tears danced on h is face and crept in his eyes.
 
No one knew why he cried
Why a part of his soul had been stabbed and let die.
But all who saw always assumed.
For he was a poor one; a son of a goon.
 
"The poor boy his stomach must hurt",
Cried a woman who lived far above;
In buildings fifteen floors stacked
Where onlookers stood and clacked and clacked.
 
"This is his karma, the poor child.
The crimes of his past life must not have been mild.
Now he must live to atone."
Whispered an old man in an unforgiving tone
 
The old man's god was a cruel one.
Why for the sins of a man, a child must burn?
But that was still not the reason he wept
As the clouds in the sky slowly crept.
 
"Ravi beta go give him this roti."
ordered a woman ;her kindness noting
In the eyes of all those who looked
For even kindness this small the entire world shook.
So Ravi went to meet the boy
After his mother had nagged and annoyed,
And he saw the boy wet with tears
offering the roti, his heart now only mechanical gears.
 
He felt no pity for the infant.
His humanity was destroyed in an instant,
To protect it or it would have bled.
In his life who had he ever helped?
 
"Oh boy why do you cry?"
He asked in a voice stale and dry.
"I have brought you food, your hunger fed
Eat it now so your stomach can mend."
 
"Thank you dearly sir but food is not why i cry.
I cry at the ever expansive blue sky;
Which looks on unaffected as the people say
Unbeknownst to human suffering, happy and gay."
 
"But what if the sky falls in love,
with creatures such as us; rude and rough.
What if it cherishes us.
And watches us waste away and rust."
 
- Arjun Khajuria
XII D(Batch of 2020)