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A beating middle class

A beating middle class

Every city in a third-world country has a different charm, history and grace,

and when I travel from the north to the tropical south you actually see this face.

Summer-scorching, beaches-around, fish-smelly, film-stars-gods, geniuses-sound:

and cleanliness-similar; but the one thing that is common is the middle class background.

A boy runs out of a make shift tent,

His mother follows, no time spent.

Amma shouts at him, fists waving in the air, cursing in an unspoken language.

The boy runs away, makes space and, tends to his new found bruises.

Amma continues screaming, the nine year old attempts “a crying child”.

All the time urging, begging and trying to convince her, “my brother’s wild.

Not me”, The brother cool as ever, changes his t-shirt. Silence: his strength.

Amma now tired and exhausted. Questions, ‘how am i bringing up my sons?’

The boy, slowly comes close to her; still urging, but now hands behind his back.

softly saying ‘hit me some more and finish it’. Amma sits down; head on her hands.

The boy thinks ‘ahhh saved’ ,but the sight of his mother stops him from smiling.

A little blame, some apologies, promises to do chores and he gets his willing.

Meanwhile the brother changes into a yet another t-shirt, victorious and uncaring.

The boy goes good for a few hours, makes Amma happy and: life comes back staring.

It involved ‘Urdu’ and two deceitful brothers instead of one, in my time,

but this repeating scene ,to all middle class families adds some spice and lime.

read more poems about the middle class right here!

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