Choice
Some wake up sharp by the daybreak
Take a bath; wear ashes or tilak
Liberally on their foreheads and bodes;
Burn incense and light oil wick;
Before their deities and join the world
To swindle, squeeze and abuse the weak
Some rise late by eight or nine
After a seesawed night of spilled over wine
And go out to help the maimed
Unfed, oppressed and distressed
If one asks me to make a wise choice
I don’t mind siding with the sinful looking latter
In spite of the God-factor with the sinister former
poem by Sathya Narayana
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