I am going to tell you something
Which will say everything
There was a girl called Rakhi
Everybody who knows her story feels for her sorry
But there was a time when every day her mother told her a story
Her father worked in an office and, often brought her toffees
Once she went for a school tour
Least knowing that her life was going to be so sour
Because leakage of petrol, there was a fire in the village
Rakhi’s parents died of burn
And for worse, her life took a turn
Now she works in a house
She sleeps in a storeroom full of mice
She is woken up at 3 o’clock by her name
Often she is beaten up with a cane
She weeps while she sweeps
But no one for her cares
No one looks at the pain she bears
She sees children going to school
She too wants to study
And play with her friends in the playground
And enjoy on swings like merry-go-round
This child labour is not a curse for Rakhi alone
But for thousands of others in our society
Can’t we give their life a little lift?
Why do we forget that they too are God’s gift?
