Standing beside the window of my room br I was watching the scene on the roadside br It’s the time where I get the grass to eat br It’s my observation that clings on the beat. br br This time I was watching a play on the road br It’s just a game of ball between the two br It’s not play that attracted; it’s manners of kids br Both from different privilege groups. br br One was throwing the ball in all directions br The other running all around to collect it br The affluent not willing to shed his sweat br The other was behind the action-full treat. br br The stronger the other was in his collection br Severe were the attempts thrown to him br It seemed the other ever willing to pick br But affluent was loosing strength to stick br br The game took a different turn in a swift br The one who threw stopped his throws br Couldn’t stand more in the scorching heat br Found a place to throw himself to rest. br br The picker without action still wanted more br Tender muscles had enough food for the day br Unwilling to rest, eager to continue the game br Still standing in wait for next throw to come. br br The affluent though started the throw as a game br Carried it with an intention to make own mark br Without knowing the fact that marks are made br By those who put steps firmly down on the road. br br br At the end of the game, it could be seen that br The affluent was carried home with a lift in arm br Where the other ran home with full spirit br And energy, which is charged to his merit.