Sometimes one must visit one's Conscience
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Sometimes in the dark of the night I visit my conscience
To see if it is still breathing for its dying a slow death Every day.
When I pay for a meal in a fancy place
An amount which is perhaps the monthly income
Of the guard who holds the door open
And quickly I shrug away that thought
It dies a little
When I buy vegetables from the vendor
And his son "chhotu" smilingly weighs the potatoes
Chhotu, a small child, who should be studying at school
I look the other way.It dies a little.
When I am decked up in a designer dress,a dress that cost a bomb
And I see a woman at the crossing in tatters, trying unsuccessfully to save her dignity
And I immediately roll up my window.It dies a little
When I buy expensive gifts for my children
On return, I see half clad children with empty stomach and hungry eyes
Selling toys at red light
I try to salve my conscience by buying some, yet It dies a little
When my sick maid sends her daughter to work making her bunk school
I know I should tell her to go back .But I look at the loaded sink and dirty dishes
And I tell myself that is just for a couple of days .It dies a little
When I hear about a rape or a murder of a child,I feel sad, yet a little thankful that it's not my child.I can not look at myself in the mirror.It dies a little
When people fight over caste creed and religion,I feel hurt and helpless
I tell myself that my country is going to the dogs.
I blame the corrupt politicians absolving myself of all responsibilities
It dies a little .
When my city is choked. Breathing is dangerous in the smog ridden metropolis
I take my car to work daily not taking the metro,not trying carpool
One car won't make a difference, I think
It dies a little
So when in the dark of the nigh
I visit my conscience
And find it still breathing
I am surprised
For, with my own hands
Daily, bit by bit, I kill it, I bury it.
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Courtesy: Junaid Tahir
Blogger, Editor, Web Dev Enthusiast