Reality check

There is a market huge for class elite

narrating stories of their climb to fame through the stairs of plight

 

And that is fair enough

’cause all are not gifted with life rough and tough

 

But is there a market

that has a story by the weavers of carpet

 

Stories of those who live a little above, below, around the lines of poverty

dabbing the roofs and at times eyes watery

 

Of those who build homes and dreams of others

but have long lost their own feathers

 

Of those who wake at crack of dawn

whose slumberland are our dusty lawns

 

Of those who have never tasted what a comfortable life feel like

never understood what is this term called salary hike

 

Of those little gazing eyes at a fancy doll

that spent the night weeping beneath a shawl

 

Of those who don’t have a story of rags to riches

trying to conceal their wounds with stitches

 

Will such stories inspire a reader to pick up the book

or it shall remain overlooked in a nook

 

Will such stories break our obsession with happy endings

if could not become our bed time readings

 

Will such stories move hearts

if not making it to the top-selling charts

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