Behind Barbed-Wires and Walls

There is a different world behind those seven-foot walls,
And the barbed-wires,
Have heard from others, there is a small paradise.
A big fountain in the middle of the garden,
An array of cars, avoiding collision,
No, I am not talking of a mansion,
Have heard from others, it a humble little heaven.
White marble on the floor is sparklingly clean,
Walls effuse taste of a distinctive breed,
An obese dog refuses to acknowledge me,
He looks happy in his dreamy state,
Showered with so much love,
I feel pity as the place wasn’t meant for it.
Whiff of fragrance overwhelms me,
Enters a petite frame with coloured lips,
Animated eyes welcome me,
Oh, the chivalry transfers an uneasy feel.
Here comes a little girl,
With two-plaits and a lot of worry,
Carrying a tray with her small hands,
Looking at me with a broken smile.
Had heard it before, child labour is no more,
I must be dreaming,
The polka-dot figure had vanished behind ruffled curtains,
Still moving, admitting her presence.
‘Rani’ what you have done?
Again put in sugar when I wanted none’
Hurling abuses, she told me,
‘These silly, poor people would never learn,
No point in giving them shelter,
You please have your tea, it seriously doesn’t matter.’
Quietly I did, wondering what shelter is,
Trampling childhood and crushing someone’s dreams,
Those hands would be holding a pencil,
Going by the meaning of shelter in the dictionary,
Futile it is, as they say,
Behind those seven-foot walls and the barbed-wires,
Life is not always as you see.