The Masked Heroes
The Masked Heroes
I shuttered the world of innocence
That clouded my eyes,
And saw the pain they took,
That was worth more any fees, worth more any price.
Service for them was their ritual,
They did for the beauty of our smile
Service for them was their prayer
Upon which they bestowed their heads throughout their life
The magic they bring
The comfort they inject
Is the beauty of their honesty
That more than money demands our respect
Our life without them is like that black and white frame
That keeps hanging on the walls all restless and lame
It is those beautiful colours that instil life in those dead frame
That become the pillar of our block
That become the root to our stem
They are the same colours that light up our homes
And become a linning of gold upon the rust
They are the same hands which waters our garden
Erase out all the negativity, all the dust.
Life without them is not less than a spilled pudding
That once scattered can't be moulded again
They polish our dull life
Accompany us to broken paths, broken lanes
Numbers can't count their year's hard work
A note can't clean their sweat
Doctors, nurses and all the labours
Are our masked heroes that deserve the world's respect
I photographed the seven wonders of world
But didn't get any peace
Because the real beauty lied in a picture
Where a young boss touched the elder labour's feet.