Standing out-and-out,
She looks around with a hopeful sight,
Uncaring for her kids around,
But caring for the passerby,
She hopes to get a coin,
Into her grounded silver bowl,
Muddy site full of monkeys’ shrieks,
She turns to a baby, who cries for her breast,
Still some coins are yet to be dropped in,
She tends to cover an inadvertent uncovered modesty,
Alas! She gets stillness upon her brood,
With emptied bellies for uncounted days,
A monkey drops a banana skin from a tree,
She picks it up and squeezes,
Hoping to get its juice into the mouth of babies,
Now the weather changes,
She also gets threatened by it,
Drizzle turns out to be stormy,
Clutching her idle babies,
She shelters under a tree,
Unjust…unjust, her rags are taken off.
Oh God! You materialize for tearful life, you do, do you?
Hoping…praying…pleading,
She beholds her bowl in the same abyss.