Amann Aroraa (28 March 1993 / New Delhi)

A middle class man, nice and ordinary¬
On the next day of getting his salary¬,
With an idea of spending some time with his family
Takes them to the city mall, next to the gallery.

The city mall, a handsome structure
Authoritatively stands in the heart of the city
It's bright lights and bonny sights,
Attracts audience from all around the vicinity.

The city mall, inaugurated for ages.
Watches the family make its first appearance.
Mesmerized and petrified are the ordinary folks,
Right from the point of entrance.

Our man is most spell bound.
As he looks at the things around.
His kids ask for the toy car that makes sound.
And his wife introduces him to a dress she found.

Then he sees in a mirror his ugly picture.
Watching the polished folks fill their bags.
While others are applauding the beautiful items.
He is looking only at the price tags.

He is beaten by the fear of embarrassment,
Of going home with his pouch vacated.
His lady; wise lady, understands her man.
But the kid's demands make him grated.

All his frustration, he pours at them,
On young children-too young to understand,
Weeping and yelling they protest
As they are dragged to the near bus stand.


Some flashback time for our poor man,
His old days revert from the womb of time.
His poorer days with no penny in hand
His urges and drives in the days of prime.

He rushes back where the mall still stands,
And gets the toys of the best brands.
Their smiles worth more than the money he spends.
So what he has to work on few weekends?