Poor Are Hurt Poem by Mehta Hasmukh Amathaal

I was growing day by day
The past was left behind by miles away
Now I was added with “sir” as title
Every one involved me in their struggle

I was growing in stature too
The shadow was growing even larger
I had big name and known all over
Such was magic spell of money power

I remember same people and their attitude
Parent were not considered and sometimes pushed aside
They were given no due because of poor background
Many times they were insulted and shown the door

Each and every incidence is printed on mind chip
Some times I used to sit in corner and weep
Parent were helpless in their struggle
People were adding more to their problems

Today everything has changed
I have come up and successfully managed
I have provided cloth and grains to needy
It reaches to them without their knowledge and secretly

I knew how deeply poor are hurt
When some one insults and replies curt
It hurts their self pride and honor
No one should be subjected therefore