The Life & Times of An Indian Street Dog
The streets are my home
I grew up here,
I grew up on my own.
I too had aspirations, I thought I’d make it big some day.
“Everything seems possible when you are young,”
They are right when they say.
As I grew older, reality set in;
Nope, I wasn’t going to have an exciting future,
After all, I was no Golden Retriever or Japanese Chin.
Wait, did they just reject me for I am no hunk?
And now I won’t ever eat out of a plate,
Or have a cushion to bunk?
Those handsome buggers have it easy,
They get ‘loving, caring homes’ in no time
I wasn’t aware that looks mattered so much
Since when was being Plain Jane a crime?
I spent the best years of my life
waiting for something exciting to happen,
The most I got was screeching cars;
and some nice people who cuddled.
But that was that and then I stopped waiting,
For feeling miserable was no use;
Although I hear they often mention me,
But only as an insulting abuse.
Now I am growing older,
and I have made peace with reality
I spend my days by myself,
Waiting for eventuality.
Do I not look happy?
May be it doesn’t show.
That lady who brings food for us street-dwellers,
There’s too much to her that I owe.
For it’s not just the food that I like her for,
It’s also the closest I will ever get to being cared about.
Even if she turned up without food some day,
I would still be excited to see her, I have no doubt.
Am I sounding too needy?
I apologize, those are not my manners.
I know better than demanding love,
I understand the real things in life that matter.
I love my brothers on the streets,
We could fight and kill for each other;
They are the only family I ever had,
We have been through a lot together.
The only wish that I make every day,
is not to make us prettier in the next life.
But to give others the vision
to see what lay inside.