by Mamta Agarwal
As a child when I went to the circus, Though I loved the clowns and the acrobats, I hated when the ringmaster made the animals act And do unnatural things, To tickle human beings. As the tiger came out of the cage, You could see he was in rage. On a visit to the zoo, Seeing the tiger roam, I often wondered, How does it feel To be uprooted from your natural habitat. The frustration was writ large on the face of the Royal cat. On growing up, and on a visit to A family friend's farm house, I used to squirm to see walls decorated with tiger skins And the conversation full of anecdotes of the kill. I often wonder Is that why it's becoming extinct. We really had no right to kill For pleasure or greed, Every creature has a place in the scheme of things It's sad today the tiger tops the list of endangered species. I still remember the poem by Blake, Which I read in the seventh grade. The day is not far when those famous stripes Will just adorn the rags of designer lines.