a mere pawn

the woman walks with a child in her arms,
from door to door begging for alms,
or on some other day,
on a busy road,
at the traffic signals,
the baby sleeps soundly clinging to the mother's arms,
then again sometimes she sits on the footpath,
the sleeping child lying carelessly ,
with a milk bottle toppled down,
flies all around,
the woman shabbily dressed,
with flesh showing from here and there,
passers by oogling through,
the woman begs in the name of the child,
fast asleep the child knows none,
drugged he is,
drugged everyday by pills,
so that he doesnt cry,
nor ask for food,
who is this mother?
is she the mother who lulls?
the mother who sings sweet notes,
to the child's ears,
and who is this child?
does she belong to her,
or the child is a mere pawn for drawing sympathy,
bought for a few pieces of paper,
everyday,
from another mother,
will the child ever have childhood like you and I?
a simple question arises,
or is it simple at all?..........