A Lost Childhood

Sitting at the table

Of your neighbourhood teashop,

From the waiter’s eyes you see

A tiny tear drop.

He rubs his eyes with the back of his hand

But his face is still tear-stained

Even though you see him smile

You know that he is pained

Just about a year ago

His parents had promised him books

But now serving tea for a living

From the customers he gets dirty looks

His father, who had lost his job

Just stayed at home and stuttered

Dizzy from the drinks he’d had

His heart was always a –flutter

His mother was a simple woman

Who didn’t know left from right

She wanted to send her son to school

She wanted him to read and write

But the bills were high

And the dues had to be paid

To get three square meals a day,

The poor child, day and night, he slaved

He had only finished his second standard

He wanted to rise and conquer all

Now he had to work hard all day

He had to maintain a tea stall!

His daddy’s friend had given him a job

And he earned 10 rupees a day

But he had the heart of a child

He only wanted to learn and play

He served the people politely

And went to work on time

He was paid nothing but harsh words,

Insults and occasionally a dime.

He brings the hot cups of tea

And gently wipes the tables

While his mind is filled with thoughts

About his mother and her fables

Late in the evening, he returns

Weary and covered in sweat and grime

Why do I have to work, he asks his daddy

What is my crime?

To this he gets no answer

But a few slaps and bruises

Later his mother holds him in her lap

Trying to pacify him with various excuses

He cries himself off to sleep

The family’s responsibilities he can’t shirk

He has to follow the path he hasn’t chosen for himself

The next day he must return to work.