The show goes on

Poverty never affects them. They live in big cities. They talk Lambhorghini, Aston Martin, Rolls Royce, Gucci, Versace, Vogue, Mc Donalds, Hollywood, India-US Nuclear Deal, etc. They sit in plush air-conditioned rooms and read Sidney Sheldon or Jeffrey Archer or Dan Brown. They have cars with AC and other paraphernalia in it. They buy big invest big and earn big. They know that their city has a river into which all the city waste is dumped and all the factories around the city also dump their waste into it. They don't live near it, only poor labourers in thatched huts and filthy surroundings live near that black serpent like river which flows through the heart of the city. These labourers work for them as house servants or as newspaper boys or as plumbers or as delivery boys. They just go to parties never giving a second thought to their driver who must be living in a slum. They are inside their i-Pods and mobiles and have no time for anything else. They just have to maintain their social circles and put up acts and observe all the required formalities.
The factory owner doesn't care for the labourer who inhales all the smoke and lives a slow death. He has to take care of the auditors with nice good money so that they will report the factory is maintaining a good eco-friendly system. The government doctor has to get the bribe from the poor slum-dweller to operate on him. The IT professional has to please his clients and bosses everybody is busy putting up an act. The poor are busy being poor.
The actors are busy, the show goes on.