Slumdog Millionaire

I live here, in this place;
Your city’s disgusting disgrace.
You people, rich and plum,
Call it the Dirty Slum.
No wonder you wrink your nose,
We don’t have sandal and rose.
Promise the whites every four years,
To remove our woes and stained tears.
Flags vary and colours change
And the promises become totally strange.
Our life of daily curses
Is not worth your poetic verses.
But its not as pathetic as yours;
You are the actual poors.
I don’t sleep on silky mattress
Nor do I need the sleeping pills.
I don’t wear Reebok and Levis,
Certainly do, more than your girls at disco nites.
I don’t need yahoo and orkut,
‘cos I remember friends; don’t get reminded.
I don’t workout in hunky gyms,
Nor do I sit and ‘work’.
My life is not comfortable,
Nor is it complicated.
I may look shabby and dirty,
But my soul is tidier than yours’.
After all happiness is not in the things we have,
Its in the things we do.
From the sea of sorrows,
I take out the pearl of happiness;
Among the rocks of hard times,
I dig out the diamond of smile;
From the dark mines of fate,
I mine out the golden peace.
If happiness, not money were wealth,
I am a millionaire,A Slumdog Millionaire.