Cold winds lap my face, sending chills through my spine,
As I pull the hood over my head, losing track of time,
Once at the corner of this road, a small restaurant stood,
Which served hot tea with biscuits for cheap,
Now there was a huge building, blocks of concrete,
Studded with decorated lights, and barring entry,
Only restricted people enter it, people who know not,
What it might have felt like to know not what rich is.

It is serene all around, soft huddled voices come from all sides,
I spot a couple whispering to each other,
They look at me with sullen faces, as if I disgust them,
And I know why it is so, only I don’t take it to my heart.
It has always been so, since I was small, smaller than my niece.
They hate me not because I am bad,
And they don’t hate me for the wrong deeds I have done,
But they hate me for my hands are not white,
They hate me because the dusk seems more akin,
Than the sunny brightness, on my face.

Yet I don’t pay much heed to it,
For what cannot be changed need not be changed.
I have learned to adapt myself, much like my friends,
Like fishes which are small, stay huddled together,
So that sharks cannot encroach upon them,
And at night, when I get back,
The serenity around me, is what I have always wanted,
And I have got that, and I should be happy,
So why must I frown, and why must I be sad,
If he who does not know me, hates me?


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