Diwali, when the city forgets to blame
A date, a week of happiness defined by dates.
You sit in your Audi, ordering gifts online to send away
So that you could network and buy more metal wheels.
I watch you from the pavement,
Wondering if I can buy myself a new gunny sack as a treat
To hold all those left-over sweets from your garbage bins
I am the missing link you forget to feed.
I am the missing link electrocuted in lighting up your homes, to invite Lakshmi.
You stroll around the mall, buying candles and sweets
Hoping to find that perfect bride for your well-bred son.
I watch you from the servant quarter
Which you've rented out to immigrants like me.
I miss home too, yet cannot afford to return.
Wondering if you'll light a candle for me too
Or will those only be mine if I am raped in the city?
I am the missing link you forget to love
I am the missing link orphaned while you cram the fridge with foods, to invite Lakshmi.
You chatter to me excitedly about the new phone daddy's buying
So you can take hotter pictures of yourself.
You're so excited to go on that Europe trip
That your daddy bought you.
I watch your enthusiasm with envy
Wondering if I wore those little hot pants
Would I get away with it too?
I am the missing link you forget to help
I am the missing link walking a desert, where you plant carpets, to invite Lakshmi.
You talk about helping the poor this Diwali
So you could add another insightful idea to your resume
You're known to be the angel activist and voice for us marginalised
I watch how people admire your gusto, your faded kurta.
Wondering in my mind, how do you get away with it?
Your haircut cost more than my monthly wage.
I am the missing link you use as child labour
I am the missing link that sits in the dark, while you add another trophy, to invite Lakshmi.
That missing link is not for us to exploit.
That missing link is not wealth hungry
That missing link only wishes to join- you and me
And create, the complete whole.
Happy Diwali, if you bring the missing link back into the mould.
A date, a week of happiness defined by dates.
You sit in your Audi, ordering gifts online to send away
So that you could network and buy more metal wheels.
I watch you from the pavement,
Wondering if I can buy myself a new gunny sack as a treat
To hold all those left-over sweets from your garbage bins
I am the missing link you forget to feed.
I am the missing link electrocuted in lighting up your homes, to invite Lakshmi.
You stroll around the mall, buying candles and sweets
Hoping to find that perfect bride for your well-bred son.
I watch you from the servant quarter
Which you've rented out to immigrants like me.
I miss home too, yet cannot afford to return.
Wondering if you'll light a candle for me too
Or will those only be mine if I am raped in the city?
I am the missing link you forget to love
I am the missing link orphaned while you cram the fridge with foods, to invite Lakshmi.
You chatter to me excitedly about the new phone daddy's buying
So you can take hotter pictures of yourself.
You're so excited to go on that Europe trip
That your daddy bought you.
I watch your enthusiasm with envy
Wondering if I wore those little hot pants
Would I get away with it too?
I am the missing link you forget to help
I am the missing link walking a desert, where you plant carpets, to invite Lakshmi.
You talk about helping the poor this Diwali
So you could add another insightful idea to your resume
You're known to be the angel activist and voice for us marginalised
I watch how people admire your gusto, your faded kurta.
Wondering in my mind, how do you get away with it?
Your haircut cost more than my monthly wage.
I am the missing link you use as child labour
I am the missing link that sits in the dark, while you add another trophy, to invite Lakshmi.
That missing link is not for us to exploit.
That missing link is not wealth hungry
That missing link only wishes to join- you and me
And create, the complete whole.
Happy Diwali, if you bring the missing link back into the mould.
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