It was a busy Monday morning,
I was driving to office;
Listening to music, ignoring the traffic,
I had a meeting not to miss.
Crash, I heard the noise,
As his vehicle scratched mine;
I signaled him to stop,
Worried my car has lost its shine.
He defended himself,
As I was observing the dent;
And started blaming me instead,
For his bumper also had bent.
There was an air of confusion,
So an argument ensued;
It was a matter of thousands,
For who will pay who.
We argued, abused, fought,
And with voices raised the heat;
Traffic was held, people watched,
A kid came begging, having nothing to eat.
We were worried at our own loss,
Counted fortune we spent;
The broken fender, the bent bumper,
Money the boy could not have ever dreamt.
Pressure of the traffic ended the scuffle,
We gave each other one final look of hate;
And rode back into our cars,
Honked loudly for the boy was still at the gate.
While the curses were aplenty for each other,
The poor boy got in the cross fire;
His incessant asking for food & silent cries,
Got lost in the screech of the Tyre.
One loud honk and the boy moved,
With oceans of sadness filled in his eyes,
For he could not fathom the splurges on the car.
When I had none for him to borrow some smiles.