Slums Of The World

In Bombay I got lost in a slum so vast, a maze of poverty its inhabitants survive in a mysterious way living as they do off the waste produced by the prosperous. This anthill, this myriad of struggling humanity, if they are not too busy surviving every moment of the day, look up and see the formidable sight of the rich. A skyscraper built for a family of four, yet vast with so many floors and rooms it has a place for slum dwellers too. so why do they not take it over. A revolution of short duration, defecate in every room, elevators and swimming pools; let the rich smell the stench of your life till the police – servants of the powerful- come, throw you out. Shoulder to shoulder they exist the sinner and the saint, a son suckling a breast that has no milk, death and filth clouds the day, blinded stumbling fumbling in despair, a jute sack of destitution, how to be free? But there is one pleasant thought, this obscene edifice, a one finger salute to the poor, will never be glorious again.