Western Tourists Poem by Hardik Vaidya

Every day, for lands far away
Cruise ships anchor, at the Ballard Bay.
Gentle souls, in sunny coats
Hand in hand take a stroll
Step into India the land of Bharata.
There are no pre paid cabs
What waits for them is a crowd of plastic shouts,
Of touts and taxi men who want them to not walk.
Once the fun is gone, the excitement of India lost,
Scores of children with yellow, sticky, eyes
Follow them, like flies, touching them, poking them,
Making them ask Oh Dear God Why?
Did we set our foot on shore, we would have been happy,
Drinking a beer on deck, on board.
I haven't seen a single westerner shoo away a child,
I haven't seen a single westerner paying money to our stolen kid,
I have seen a few buying food for them, and waiting for them to eat,
I have seen them keep patience, show empty hands a hundred times,
But never like me shoo away our lost forgotten child.
I don't think It is Incredible India, but Grateful India.