Right from the day I was five,
I’ve been running my family business,
That of cleaning drains and slushes,
And now at fifty, I’m tired.
If ever there is a thing like God,
Surely he would’ve helped me out,
But no, I’ve seen no change in me,
Nor in my son, who now is 20.
I ask everyone who claim to have seen God,
Show him to me, or atleast,
Ask him to give me a better life,
You can’t, can you?
I know you couldn’t.
There’s never a thing like god.
Oh.. .what is it?
This son of god says,
This is my punishment for the sins,
I commited in my previous birth.
I ask you, sir…
Then is god not all-forgiving like you all think?
And that he holds grudges against me?
Don’t give me shit, my dear man,
I don’t even remember who I was,
In my last birth.
For me god is just a film,
The devotees get their money’s worth,
By worshipping him,
And the others who sell the film,
Earn profit beyond their wildest dreams.
But, we, poor people get caught amidst,
And we play our roles,
That, what the “script-writer” wrote for us.