Cheryl

Sweating in the summer Sun of Dubai My shopping trolley overloaded I struggled at my building door When she, a kid of hardly seven Beaming, held it open for me to pass As we meandered towards the lifts She in front like an angel in brisk steps That hardly touched the floor I asked her what she was named 'Cheryl' came the answer Then she chirped how old she was In which class she studied From Mangalore she hailed The little mass of condensed confidence Inside the lift I wanted to know What she would like to be Pat came the answer 'A teacher' and the reason for the wish 'There are poor kids in my land Who need my help with their lessons' From her poised air of assurance Polished shine and countenance I had thought she would name Fashion designing for a career Or follow in the footsteps Of astronaut Sunita Williams Or at least a doctor highly specialized Working in the United States Her answer had me bowled over A sob blocked my throat As I stood behind her Struggling to hold back tears Of joy - a wasteland of seventy Dwarfed by a mere tiny seven Oh, how fortunate is my motherland A little brave-heart here burns For her, in the cradle of comforts and riches A midnight candle of love and hope A thousand miles away from her shores Cheryl dear, crores of kids may you inspire