Doing Good Anyway

On a severe winter evening, a pack of monkeys shivered with cold as the breeze began to blow by dusk.They gathered under a tree for refuge and started collecting twigs of dry wood for fire to keep them warm.Unfortunately they could not manage to find some starting fire.One clever fellow caught a firefly and placed it under the pile of wood and the entire pack bagan to fan it, hoping it will light up !
Well ensconced in their cosy nests, hanging from branches of the tree, the weaver birds watched the miserable monkeys fail repeatedly.These birds are known for their skill of weaving beautiful nests that suspend from trees.Seeing the plight of poor monkeys the birds came out of their nests to tell them what mistake they were making.The monkeys went wild on learning how silly they were.They destroyed their nests, broke their eggs and made them homeless.
Such is life. Doing good to others at times can be misconstrued.
Should the birds have kept quiet ? Why did they invite the wrath of the monkeys ? Why not let a fool be a fool ? . . . . . . . . No. Goodness does not stop from being good,no matter what odds, for, it's essence lies in doing good.
Most of us are weak in our will to speak the truth.We think it's impolite to point out the wrong.Ordinary men think as a multitude, those of substance, fear not to go alone.

What Matters ?

It's a winter morning
here in the city of Bombay
there's a delicious warmth in the rising sun
I decide to go for a stroll
to get whiff of the first morning air.

I get onto the road
and find a beeline of small children
in whites and blues
with bags of books
hanging from their tiny shoulders.
There's an innocent intimacy
between boys and girls
talking incessently
laughing for ever
excited about the day ahead.
They all appear from humble homes
headed for the municipal school
with hope in their hearts
dream in their eyes.

How proud I am  I say to myself
to see not-so-lucky children
waking up to the dawn of knowledge
from years of ignorance
from centuries of darkness
for there was no big opportunity then
to even reach the gates of a school.

Then I look down at their feet
a chance look indeed
not all have a footwear !
Perhaps the burden of books
and of uniform
has made shoes a lesser priority
the poor cloth they wear
makes the uniform an apology anyway.

My eye sheds an involuntary tear
not for I am sorry for them
to see tender bare feet
walk upon the harsh road
it's a tear of joy instead
to see their enthusiasm
not lessened for the want of a shoe
infact has multiplied
as they look happy
sure of themselves
and keen to go to school.
They seem to convey -
shoes don't matter
paper and pencil do !