Their Hands

Brick laid on brick grows up to cottages, bungalows and complexes,

When their swift hands cultivate together;

No wind, no storm can stir their endeavour;

Their herculean power raises tower and tower;

Their breathless, incessant hours that they offer

To build stronger villages, towns and cities;

And a nation rises to shine pretty;

Incredible are their hands that they lend!

So shall we peep at how they sail their ship?

How their wishes get crushed under the rattling wheels of pretty business deals!

How their kids gape at the morning school buses

Buzzing with giggling voices!

Why their women stare strangely at the glamorous ladies on wheels

And never dare to ask their men to ride the wheels?