I arrived late evening in Delhi, in the darkness not much to see.
But the next day reality once more struck me
In the morning facing poverty is in here a harsh reality
Young boys and old men covered with filthy blankets.
Thousands of homeless beggars, waiting for sun rise, not sunset.
Early morning January sun saves them from five degree cold.
Then I saw many people queuing to buy ruthless gold.
If you don’t belong to the well-off twenty percent,
You can’t have a woman or even a poor bitch.
Human life is so cheap in Delhi’s streets.
Thank heavens I am not a poor Punjabi or poor Indian.
Therefore why should I cry for the poor people,
Instead of joining with the rich people and having the fun?
Say, for argument’s sake, if I may make myself less human,
Then caring for the poor people, myself I will ban.
Thank heavens there are many churches in Delhi,
They give you heavenly hope if you become a re-born Christian.
In between this world and the other world, life is so cheap in Delhi
Most of the Delhi streets have ugly human fates, you can see it.
And everything costs money, except the church’s services which are free.
Free hope is better than nothing but the daily reality is deadly.
While rich people hold all the wealth and most of the joy and sins,
I hope, the losers of this world, in the other world everything they will win.