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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