Once lived a girl innocent and kind,
With a heart made of gold and the most excellent mind.
Magnificent as she was, free like a butterfly,
Always working for the good, never priding up the high.
One fine day she came across a group,
Happy as could be, not one for a dupe,
A young woman was charmed by her pendant,
A leopard’s claw, one polished and resplendent.
The girl asked for her umbrella in return,
The woman agreeing half-heartedly, as if to spurn,
The girl was pleased, and walked away contentedly,
With the blue silk fluttering above her gracefully.
Everyone was dumbstruck, amazed by its grace,
Slightly envious as she walked with a cheerful face,
Each one secretly admired it from afar,
As it left a blazing fire in their hearts with a scar.
Ram Bharosa was one of the many,
The many who wanted its beauty to be theirs.
But he was one of those, those few uncanny;
Those resorting to wrong methods with a hazy stare.
He ordered the umbrella stolen,
But stopped dead in his tracks,
As his attempt went unsuccessful,
And was caught, giving him a rack.
Everybody knew better than to trust him further,
But the girl never forgot, walking past with a shudder.
The old man sat alone in his shop,
Pondering upon his fortunes, sometimes with a tiny sob.
As charitable as could be, the girl stepped in,
And left the umbrella with a secret little grin.
Upon being confronted said confidently,
“Materials never mattered more than emotions, and so should never be.”
The girl trudged away, with pleasure within,
And remembered her old days with the sky as her kin.
These were the days to relive those ones,
With only the sky as an accomplice with the sun.
