Unless one works hard for it

I'll tell you the secret of life,

when you attain d' age of 12

suitably can plan your future,

and accordingly can behave

 

A milkman owned a few cows,

used to say his kids, all along

managed his family somehow,

recited it regularly like a song 

The oldest turned 12 one day,

he anxiously asked his father

d' father replied, I will tell you,

don't reveal it to your brothers

The cows do not give the milk,

it's d' life's unexpected secret

the boy incredulously told dad,

strange, I'm unable to accept

 

As you hear it, my beloved son,

the cows do not give the milk

many endeavors needed for it,

not as facile as you do think 

Get up at four in the morning,

walk through corral in d' field

tie d' tail, hobble d' hind legs

do it yourself for a better yield 

Fix d' stool in place to sit on it

place d' bucket on d' ground

you have to milk her gingerly,

with d' calf in d' front, be found

That's the prime secret of life,

it's your try or nothing to click

d' cow won't give it on its own,

you milk her or never get milk

 

Nothing is automatic and free,

as dreamt by your generation

you wish, ask, get it in no time

hands-down, get accustomed

Life is not a matter of wishing,

just asking for it and obtaining

happiness comes with effort,

idleness always is frustrating

 

Rich background, a cute face,

fetch nothing free, automatic

a herd of cows can't offer milk,

unless one works hard for it

D’ real potentials remain hibernated

Offer some funds to buy food,

he earnestly urged the owner

had no food for last one week

any time might die of hunger

Shopkeeper, at first hesitant,

d' appeal he wished to ignore

aware of this kind of theatrics

a usual chore of the beggars

After a while, his eyes haply

caught some shining article

didn't hesitate to drag it out,

 the poor guy's begging bowl

Refusal of alms is understood,

but why snatch his only bowl?

d' destitute in an empty stomach,

such cruelty is not called-for

Hauled a piece of sandpaper out

and started scratching d' bowl

the panicked beggar pleaded

to refrain, not to spoil it at all

With folded hands, he solicited,

it's fine if u don't offer a thing

give my only bowl, back to me

deface not d' valued belonging 

Since how long have carried this,

when it came to your possession?

It's from d' day, I remember, but

what for d' unwanted question?

But tell me, how do you get this?

I want to listen to d' entire story

My father gave the item to me,

noted in  my grandpa's  inventory

A businessman presented him,

inferred with it to make a living

Such a noble offer made, but he

asked to beg with d' valued thing?

The ignorant beggar kept mum

did not know the exact answer

d' outer layer of d' bowl was gone,

sandpaper scratching was over 

His eyes glittered very brightly,

face vivid, and he looked bold

he murmured and next shouted

as I guessed, its 24 carrot gold

D' beggar got utterly shocked,

begging since three generations

he, his father, grandfather and

no hint of d' prized possession

Even if you don't offer anything

it is fine, but I'm a poor person,

this bowl is all that I have, give it

back intact, with no damage done 

Value of whatever assets they had,

to realize own strength, got late

could not use own wealth in time,

all came to d' world as a clean slate

 Ignorance, inhibition, ego, hatred

betrayal, dishonesty, greed, desires

on the pellucid pot's lucid surface,

settled got deposited layer by layer

Transformed the true pious nature,

life pulls on through twists and bends

ailments under-diagnosed, ill-treated

real potentials remained hibernated