Cutting Chai Kid

All she gets is leftover chai and Parle-G.
Yea, she knows the alphabet and it ends with C.
Counting, she knows all from one, two till three;
Yet, she's employed at the dukaan which sells tea.


You'd ask, "what's her job profile?"
She cleans the plates and stacks them in a pile.
Her uncle brings her here after walking two miles.
Yet, she believes in Service with a Smile

She's got her friends, Bantu and Panki;
They don't play with her but give her company,
in cleaning table-tops with with spilled chutney.
(They're the ones who bear the chaiwala's tyranny.)


They've never met other children of their age;
always had to work in this constant bondage.
Of course they're of school-going age;
but will they ever come out of this cage?


Blame their uncle, blame her mother;
for not letting the children know of this joy.
The chai ki dukaan doesn't pay for bread and butter;
And they can't even buy their kids a toy.