ODE TO THE LI'L PIGGY

Just this evening, I saw a piglet caught in fire
As its helpless mother stood watching the flames go higher
There was nothing much she could do
Other than grunt and try to get the piglet out too.
The little one was screaming its lungs out
As its fur charred and skin caught fire
I’m sure it must have felt horrible
Because that little thing was just a week or two old.
There was another baby circling the mothers leg she looked shaken too,
As she stayed close to her protector
The fire was set by some heartless people
While the nursing pig and the others slept in the bushes.

Few people came to the rescue
The minute the heard the grunts, which grew
And fought the fire
With buckets of water.
But that was way too late
For the trapped little pig
Whose body was charred as it lay still
Nothing could be done to get it back to life

As the smoke subsided,
I watched the pig run towards the spot
I thought she was heading towards the dead piglet
But when I saw her walk past it did I realize
In a bush, further away,
Stood a little piglet, hidden by the leaves
As it saw its mother approach,
The little piggy followed her.
There were just two tiny survivors of the fire,
The mother and the 2 piggys whose bravery to stay put, I admire.

ANGEL

An unusual cold, cloudy morning
Walking with my backpack
Various thoughts about school and assignments surround me
As I walk past the white-washed houses.

In the distance, I see you
Walking towards me, with your head bent low
You seemed lost in thoughts and gloomy
While avoiding people’s gazes
And walking in quick, long strides.

Not many would describe you as pretty
In the fishnets and boots and chokers and linkers
But you looked nothing less than an Angel to me
Blending in perfectly in the weather,
I watch you as you push away
The loose strand of your black hair
People scowl at your black make-up
And your all black outfit
I don’t understand why they just have to judge you
Based completely on how you chose to look.

People are the same inside, no matter what
Even if they change their looks everyday.
Why do they find it so hard to understand this?
Or why can’t they just mind their own business?

As you walked closer, I noticed your many piercing
Even though you are Goth, it doesn’t make you a bad person
It depresses me to see how easily people are stereotyped
They don’t even try to talk to you and get to know you
Before they pass their judgments.

You aren’t afraid to be what you are,
You don’t care about what random people think of you
You chose to be this, because this is what you wanted
And dress exactly the way you want to
For which I highly admire and respect you.

Sure, you might have been a part of the night rituals,
Sitting in a circle with your friends, in the middle of the jungle
Chanting stuff, with a fire burning in the centre.
But how can people condemn you for worshiping the Evil?
Good or bad or Satan or God,
You have your freedom to follow whatever you choose.


I watch you walk closer,
You lift your gaze to mine
And you look at me straight in the eye.
As you pass me, I could have bet my life,
That it was a smile...