Some Say old is gold
But old age bone and skin fold.
Stopped income, no welcome
Life becomes worthless, meaningless.
Worked as a clerk, a government servant
With wife, two sons, a daughter, lived in a house on rent
In this costly world brought up children with difficulty
Sacrificed our needs, and gave them all possible facility
With retirement funds, got them married
The hard earned wealth with them they have carried
We are old with meagre pension, they are not worried
We are almost useless, worthless, children waiting us to be buried
With the funds after retirement, built a home
Alas the eldest son registered it in his wife’s name
Younger son living within laws as a slave.
He is very timid, not brave
Our fate, the gate closed, thrown out from our own house
I shift to thatched hut with my ailing spouse
Torn and worn out footwear walk miles, to the bank.
Hoping to receive pension, tension, answer is blank.
Great expectation in rotation children may look after us.
Penniless worthless, old age is a curse.
Bank strike, protests pension is delayed,
Days have gone, finally arrived, long queue impatiently I wait
Can’t protest, can’t blame, fate pension has come late.
I wait and collect the cash
With enthusiasm, extra vigour towards home I dash.
My ailing wife my life takes her for the treatment.
Till she is alive, she is my entertainment
Costly drugs, costly treatment get a should spend
I am her support; all the ways always gave me her helping hand
False prestige I can’t beg nor afford to borrow
Silently I shed tears with sorrow
My wife pleads, the money not to waste
She says life has come to an end no longer do I last.
Can’t see her sufferings and her agony
Left on her body the wrinkled skin, look puny
In curable disease, yet I have a glimmer of hope
Doctor says end has come there is no scope
Eyes have dried, I shed no tears.
God has become deaf, my prayers can’t hear.
She is dying eyes do not flap, at me she stares.
She has gone, I am left alone who is going to care
Neighbours, known unknown utter poor old lady died
She was my life my friend and my guide
People come last respect to pay, place flowers
Can’t breathe can’t smell the fragrance, never
Air is filled with cries, for the last journey they arrange.
Never bothered nor cared when alive, it looks strange
Buried her mingled with the earth, buried
On her grave, even before the flowers dried
Sons quarrel with who should I stay
Heart is burdened without her live few days
She has rested heart with pieces
No peace melancholy, my life squeezes.
Joy dancing on faces of sons, so soon I have died
Immediate attention, the property to divide
Who knows their off’s prang may do the same
Life is like that who to blame.

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