Once I Came Across a Faisalabad Slum
Hanzla Mehmood
Writer’s Note: This poem is about my visit to a slum in Faisalabad where people mostly live in a dirty environment and do jobs like collecting garbage. They sell the plastic goods they find and store the garbage near the tents where they live. They don’t know how to dispose of this garbage so they keep on throwing it near their tents as these are open places. Their children grow up in the same dirty environment. When I visited the slum, I found myself feeling superior about how much cleaner I am than these people. But actually, they are the ones collecting our garbage. So, these people are not ugly; the real ugliness lies in our mindset. They are just holding our things after we throw them away.
(Image courtesy of Hermes Rivera via Unsplash)
https://unsplash.com/photos/boy-holding-cardboard-box-R1_ibA4oXiI
Once I came across a Faisalabad slum,
Garbage, mosquitoes, and flies all sum.
Residents welcomed, inviting me to come,
I hesitated, reluctant to sit,
Forgetting it’s my own garbage, thrown in a pit.
A dirty hand offered a handshake,
While a clean hand took a break.
The sun blazed down like a raging fire,
Amplifying my thirst, igniting desire.
A dirty glass offered me cool water,
Making my ego face a slaughter.
I felt ashamed a bit,
Dug in the same garbage pit.
Realized under the same sky,
We all share the same night.
I learned that day, behind a slum,
It’s me standing like scum.
Once I came across a Faisalabad slum.
(Image courtesy of Photo by Eirene Thoms via Unsplash)
https://unsplash.com/photos/moon-against-black-background-spWdryVJa7o
END OF STORY