I knock each door, while holding my child

I bow down to beg, still holding my son

Some eyes feel pity, while some feel reviled

As I ask for food going to each and everyone

I bow down to the stones I do not pray to

And plea upon deafened ears

I show forced humility through and through

As I have done through the years

The well-fed masters shout at me

As if this hunger, I myself chose

They so effortlessly forsake every plea

And only bother about their luxurious woes

Even as I am rebuked by the affluent lord

I forego my morale and bow my head

For dignity is a luxury I cannot afford

For at the cost of my dignity, my son is fed

And I feed my son, this begged and borrowed rice

Tomorrow he will grow up, following my way

He will also bow his head for a morsel or slice

And will kill his own dignity, like I did today.

-Veda Samhita